


A Great Big Love in a Tiny Place

by burningupasun



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Ficlet Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningupasun/pseuds/burningupasun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They’re wrapped up in each other’s hands and hearts and so there’s nothing strange about being always close in this little apartment. " -- A series of ficlets set in a universe where Beth and Daryl live in a tiny apartment together. Modern AU, no-zombies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For awhile now I have been writing ficlets in what I call the "tiny apartment series" on tumblr. I'm going to collect them all here and post them bit by bit in order, starting with the little ficlet/drabble that inspired the entire series.

The tiny little apartment is the only place they can afford and Daryl feels so guilty about it that he almost doesn’t put in an application until Beth tells him that he’s her home and where they live doesn’t much matter to her as long as she’s with him. And she means it, so she doesn’t much mind how small the apartment is, though it’s definitely tiny. The kitchen is so little that really only one person can comfortably fit, unless you’re Beth, who thinks it’s entirely comfortable to have Daryl wrapped around her from behind while she cooks, kissing her neck and thoroughly distracting her, and the bedroom is really more of a closet than a room; there’s just enough room for the bed and you pretty much trip over it the moment you come into the room, which is perfectly fine considering neither of them minds falling into bed together in a tangle of limbs. There’s so little room it’s all her stuff and his stuff mixed up all together, her shirts all mixed up with his in their single small dresser, and half the time she reaches in for a shirt and grabs one of his instead, but neither of them mind that because he loves how she looks in his shirts. (Once he grabbed one of hers and she teased him for ages trying to get him to put it on, but he ended up stripping hers off instead somehow and she definitely wasn’t complaining.)

They’re packed together in this tiny space but neither of them mind because that’s just how they are together, they’re close. They’re wrapped up in each other’s hands and hearts and so there’s nothing strange about being always close in this little apartment. Plus, it’s their’s. Their home, their space. They don’t care that the floors are worn because they cover it with this pretty little rug they found at a flea market together, and it doesn’t matter that the windows squeak; they keep them open most of the time anyway because Beth grows plants in her tiny little planter that brighten up the window. They don’t mind that the sun shines right into their bedroom in the morning because they like waking up all snuggled together, kissing over skin warmed by sunshine until they finally get up and ‘conserve water’ by showering together in a tub that they don’t even notice is barely big enough to hold them both. And if the kitchen table is very small to fit, then it just means they have to sit closer together in the morning when they drink their coffee and eat the toast that almost got burnt because Daryl was distracting Beth by wrapping himself around her in their perfectly-small kitchen, kissing her neck and sliding his hands over her stomach until she giggled herself breathless.


	2. Secrets and Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth is being secretive, and Daryl is worried that she's regretting moving into such a tiny little apartment with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "Beth being secretive about something, Daryl worrying she's upset with him."

It’s been a couple weeks since they moved in together into this tiny little apartment, and at first everything had been great. Beth never seemed to find that their new place was probably the size of the living room of her family home alone. She seemed to _like_  the tiny space just because it was theirs. She took special pleasure, it seemed, in going out to the flea market with him or local tag sales, finding the perfect curtains for the bedroom or a rug to put beside their table in the main room, or a little vase to set in the window. 

But for the last couple days, things had been… odd. She’d been quieter than usual. She kept slipping away downstairs to ‘do laundry’ or visit the old woman who lived beneath him, but she was always gone longer than he’d expect, and she was so quiet and secretive when she came back. He couldn’t help thinking that she was upset, and he knew why. It was this place. She deserved better and he’d always known it. Oh, Beth would never in her life say it (maybe not even think it), because she was too good for that.

Daryl thought it all the time though. He’d thought it from the moment they’d first seen this place and he’d told her it was all they could afford together. She’d smiled and told him it was perfect, but deep down in his gut he’d wondered if he was dragging her down into the gutter with him and if some day, she might come to resent him for it. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. 

It all came to a head one day when she came back from a long ‘visit’ downstairs. He figured she went down there to avoid him or something, or avoid their apartment anyway. So when she came back up he was waiting, head down, like a dog that deserved to be sent to the dog house in punishment or something. “Look,” he muttered, keeping his eyes down on the ground. “I’m sorry, ‘bout this place. I know it’s too small, I know you deserve better. You don’t have to lie no more, you don’t have to pretend you’re visitin’ Mrs. Hensen. You can go out, if you wanna get away, or… or you can move back home.” 

It was a lot of words for him and frankly, he’d expected more of a reply than he got. But Beth didn’t say anything. Instead she just took his had and tugged him after her, right out the door and down the hallway to the stairs. His questioning “Beth?” didn’t get any reply the first time or the second, and soon his voice trailed off and he just followed her right down into the basement. There was a long hallway down here, with closed doors to the storage areas that each resident got.

Beth lead him right down to their’s, the one with the neat “Apt. 206″ written on it in gold lettering. He hadn’t been down here since the day they’d moved in and he’d stored a couple boxes inside. But what he remembered the space looking like was nothing like what he saw when she opened the door and guided him inside.

There had been a desk against the far wall, which had been bare concrete last he remembered. It wasn’t, anymore. It had been replaced with a sheet of pegboard, from which all his tools now hung on nails she’d slotted into place. The rest of his tools, including his tool box, sat on the sturdy desk, and in the corner he saw his old spare automotive tool box, the one he brought home from the Auto shop when Dale got them new ones. 

But the biggest thing was standing right in the center of the space. Merle’s old bike, beat up and half broken from the accident that had gotten him arrested and put into jail for drunk driving. 

“I’ve been fixing it up for the past couple days,” Beth’s soft voice came from behind him, catching him off guard because he’d gotten so distracted looking the room over. “Tyreese and T-Dog helped me get the bike down here, they said you were storing it at the garage but you hadn’t had time to work on it. I thought… maybe you could work on it down here, sometimes.” She took a step towards him, peering up at him with a hesitant smile. “I thought maybe _you’d_  like your own space. It’s so tiny in that apartment, the two of us living hip to hip. I love every minute of it, Daryl, but I know you’re used to living alone. I thought maybe if you had a place to go, it might make it easier…”   


Guilt churned in his belly; guilt over doubting her, guilt over thinking she was anything but this… pure, sweet, kind, and so damn loving. It was guilty (and love) that had him gruffly replying, “You make it easier. Don’t mind being so close in that tight space with _you_.” 

When she smiled he was pretty damn sure she lit up the space even brighter than the light fixture overheard. Clearing his throat against the thickness of unexpected emotion, he added lowly, “Could put the radio over in the corner there, maybe?” 

Beth looked up at him with a confused smile. “Why? So you’ll have something to listen to, while you work?” 

“Nah. So you’ll have somethin’ to sing along to, when you’re done here with me. If you want, anyway.”   


He didn’t even realize she was moving until she hit him harder, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. After a dazed moment, he just chuckled, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his chin against the top of her head.

If she liked their tiny apartment because it was theirs then well… he liked it because she was in it. She brightened up the world, and in their tiny spaces he could just soak it in as much as he wanted. 


	3. I've Never... Had a Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl admits that he's never had a sleepover before, and Beth decides to remedy that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was simply: "Some Bethyl fluff so sweet it makes your teeth hurt?"

“I’ve never… had some cheesy sleepover.” **  
**

That was how it had started. Just a one-off line in the midst of some silly game Beth had insisted on playing one night when they were relaxing on the couch in their new apartment. (His vote had been strip poker, frankly, although even her way they’d ended up with their clothes off by the end of the night, curled around each other in bed with their legs tangled and his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.)

Half the night had been a blur to him the next morning, but not Beth. It was like the girl never forgot a damn thing. Just woke up the next day and had it right in the forefront of her mind, eyes bright over the rim of her coffee cup as she smiled at him from across the tiny table in their little apartment and asked, “You’ve _really_ never had a sleepover before?”

And when he’d shrugged, said even if guys had sleepovers like that he weren’t never the type to have one. He didn’t have to say more cause she knew; he’d not been the type to have friends, let alone the sort of home you could bring them back to. She knew cause Beth understood him, cause he’d told her things he ain’t never told anyone else before… and she just understood.

So instead of questioning him she just smiled even wider and fuck if he didn’t know that smile, fuck if he couldn’t name it her ‘Beth has a plan’ smile even before she leaned over and whispered, “Well I think we need to do something about that.” 

Which was how tonight had happened. How he’d ended up in the bedroom changing into flannel pants and a comfy t-shirt, despite the fact that he never really slept in ‘pajamas’ with her. Most nights ended up with the two of them falling asleep in a bare-limbed tangle, but Beth said sleepovers involved pajamas so here he was, in the closest thing he had.

Beth pulled it off far better than him. He came out of the bedroom and there she was, standing in their little living room with her hands on her hips and the proudest little expression on her face. She had on pink pajama bottoms covered in little red hearts, a matching pink tank top, and fluffy little red slippers with her hair in a braid down her back. On their tiny scuffed coffee table (bought second-hand from their favorite flea market) she’d made quite the set-up. There was a stack of movies, bowls full of chips, bags of candy, and a bottle of wine. The couch was loaded with pillows from their bed, and the spare ones they kept in the closest for when Merle crashed on their couch, and Beth had piled up some blankets there, too.

“Didn’t know wine was a thing at sleepovers,” Daryl remarked dryly, a smirk hovering around his lips as he circled the table and came up beside her.

She matched his smirk with a grin of her own. “It is for adult sleepovers, and they’re way more fun. You’ll see.”

But if her teasing words made him think more heated thoughts, they didn’t come to fruition just yet. Beth seemed far more intent on giving him the sort of sleepover he might have missed out on as a child… and her determination didn’t surprise him. He could still remember their first Christmas together, when Beth had found out he’d never really celebrated, never got a gift from Santa. She’d eased him into it, not going overboard with decorations beyond their simple tiny tree. But there had been no denying the pleasure of waking up that morning to find a present for him under the tree marked as ‘from Santa’. The first he’d ever gotten in his whole life, and it was because of her.

And now there was this. Now there was him on a couch full of pillows with Beth Greene next to him, a bowl of chips in her lap that they were both sharing as they watched a movie. Not some silly romantic comedy like he’d expected, but an action movie; something he might actually watch normally. When he’d questioned her on it, she’d just said like it was so obvious: “Well it wouldn’t be a fun sleepover if we watched a movie you hated, would it?”

She was always doing stuff like that, being so casually considerate of him. There were big things, like the way she’d turned their storage space downstairs into a room for him to work on his bike. Or the little things, like how sometimes he’d come home from the garage to find she’d cooked his favorite dinner. (A favor he tried to return in his own way, though he was far from a cook so instead it involved her coming home from her job to her favorite take-out already set up on the table.) And of course, her picking out movies she knew he’d like for his first sleepover.

“So it this all there is, to sleepovers? Junk food and movies?” Daryl sipped the beer that Beth had grabbed him from the fridge (he wasn’t the biggest fan of wine) and glanced over at her. 

“Of course not. There’s, uh… gossiping? No you wouldn’t like that. When it’s later we can tell ghost stories! But it’s not dark enough or late enough yet, hmmm… truth or dare?” Beth glanced him up and down, a mischievous light in her eyes as she reached out with her foot to nudge his leg with her toes. “Oooh, I know. How about a… _tickle fight_!”

And just like that she was launching herself at him with a squeal of delight, her hands going right for his sides and her fingers slipping under his shirt to tease across his warm skin. If she had him squirming and chuckling, it was only because he let her. Sure she was stronger than she looked, but she was about half his size so once he let her get a few tickles in it was easy to turn the tables.

With a growl from him and a squeal from her he had her pinned beneath him on the couch, squirming and wiggling as he mercilessly tickled all of her sweet spots; her sides, beneath her arms, down to the back of her knees.

“Daryl! _Daryyyyl_!” She panted and gasped his name between squeals of laughter, arching her body up to try and push him off her to no avail. 

“Say Uncle,” he growled, a grin on his lips as his hands slid over her sides to torturously tease her, “Say Uncle or I ain’t stoppin’, girl…”

Beth bucked her hips one last time as hard as she could, but Daryl had her pinned beneath him with his knees on either side of her thighs and there was no way she was getting up. “Uncle!” She cried out, falling back with a laugh and a grin. “Uncle, Uncle, you win, okay?” 

With one last skim of his fingers over her skin he pulled back to look down at her and the pretty picture she made; her blonde hair a tousled mess around her head, her eyes big and bright and her cheeks all flushed from exertion. Her prettiness was only added to by the sweet smile that curved across her lips as she teased, “So what do you want as your forfeit for winning, hm?”

“Oh…” This time the brush of his hands up her hips was decidedly slower, lingering and not teasing, gliding up over her sides to her chest as he leaned down over her and murmured in a husky, rough voice, “I bet I can think of something…”

Alright, so he was pretty sure sleepovers didn’t usually involve making out on the couch with your girl until you rolled onto the floor and continued to kiss and caress in a pile of blankets and pillows. But she _had_  said this was an adult sleepover, right?

And as far as first sleepovers went? Well as far as Daryl was concerned, it was pretty damn perfect.


	4. I've Never... Watched Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth continues checking off her list of the things Daryl has never done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "what about a ficlet about the 4th of July or Bethyl with fireworks or explosions or burning passion". 
> 
> (This one is not actually set IN the tiny apartment, but it's in that universe and is a continuation, sort of, of the last 'chapter' with the 'I've never had a sleepover' bit.)

Sometimes he think she has a list. If she does, he knows just where it is. In the little pink notebook she keeps with her all the time, scribbled down in her pretty, looping handwriting, with a header on top (underlined of course) that reads: _Things Daryl Has Never Done._

Maybe it’s just a list in her head, but then again it’s Beth. She writes down lots of things, lyrics and diary entries and grocery lists, and decorates it all with doodles of hearts and ladybugs and little figures with no hands because she can’t draw those right. So yeah, she probably has this list written down.

Whether she does or not, doesn’t really matter. What matters is that he’s pretty sure there’s a list in some form and she’s going through it piece by piece. There was I’ve never had homemade pancakes, I’ve never had frozen yogurt, I’ve never celebrated Christmas, I’ve never had a sleepover, and now…

 _I’ve never sat and watched the fireworks on the Fourth of July_.

It wasn’t that he’d never seen fireworks of course. The town he grew up in had some pitiful little show and if you climbed on top of the trailer you could almost see them in the distance, just above the tops of the trees.

But he stopped doing that after the year his Pa reached up and dragged him down, making him stumble and slide off the sloped edge and crash to the ground. He’d broken his arm and had to go to the hospital again and the next year it didn’t seem worth it.

Once or twice he’d shot off a couple cheap ass fireworks, too, the kind you found in dusty packages in shitty convenience stores along the highway around this time of year. There was one time Merle had brought like five packs of them and got lit up on god knows what, tried to set them all off at once. He’d been running like a bat out of hell and his pants had fallen right down, making him fall flat on his face.

It was hard to enjoy cheap convenience store fireworks at all, let alone when all they did was light up Merle’s saggy white ass. 

Anyway, this was different. This was as different as every moment he’d shared with Beth had been different from the life he’d led before it. This was him and Beth, laying on a clean soft checkered blanket that she’d packed and brought with them; not to the big field where they set off the actual display but to the edge of her family’s property where she claimed you could get just as good a view without any of the pesky people and screaming kids.

Not that he thought she minded the people or the kids, hell it was probably part of the experience for her (and he knew she loved kids, after all she worked at a daycare), but something like that would’ve taken the fun out of it for him and she knew that. Knew him better than most… better than anyone really. Sometimes he thought she knew him better than he knew himself.

So it was just the two of them laying side by side on that blanket in the middle of the field. He had his arms behind his head as he stared up at the sky waiting. Only it wasn’t fireworks that filled his vision first, it was her. First a soft cloud of her blonde hair brushing across his cheek and then her big blue eyes, lit up in the same smile that curved across her pink lips and plumped the apples of her cheeks. 

He didn’t need to have seen fireworks to know she was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. 

Without hesitating his hand came up to cup her face and draw her down to him. Just as her body fit against his all tucked against his side and leaning half over him, he felt their lips slot together. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. Soft, warm… _perfect._

He got so lost in kissing her that when the first firework crashed overhead he barely even flinched, didn’t even move to pull away. The warmth he got from her lips and the heat that flashed through his veins was far better than anything in the sky above, at least in his opinion.

But she drew back enough to expose the sky above them and her soft laugh was breathy against his ear as she settled against him, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. “Just watch,” she murmured with a kiss to his cheek before she glanced up at the sky above. 

Two fireworks exploded in the sky, yellow and green flaring and expanding before arcing down towards the ground in a sparkling shimmer. 

“So what do you think?” Beth asked softly, her fingers tracing shapes (hearts, he thought, it was almost always hearts) on his chest as they watched another three fireworks explode overhead, a sharp splash of red against the inky dark sky.  


“Ain’t bad,” he replied after a moment, his voice gruff and low. “Ain’t got nothin’ on you though, girl.”  


“I still think they’re beautiful,” she whispered, and he tore his gaze away from the sky to look at her instead. The flashes of color washed across her skin and flared in her eyes, like flames in the depths of those big wide pools of brilliant blue. Sensing his gaze on her she smiled, though she kept her eyes on the sky as she added lowly, “You should keep watching, Daryl…”

“Why?” He reached down, covering his hand with hers as he studied the golden light that played across her pale skin, delineating the arch of her nose.   


“So you’ll know,” Beth breathed back, finally pulling her eyes from the sky to look into his. “How I feel, every time you kiss me.”   


From anyone else he would have scoffed and just considered it cheesy as fuck. But she wasn’t anyone else she was Beth, and on her even the cheesiest things came across as poetic. 

Hell, maybe she inspired it in him, too. Maybe that was why he lifted his hand to graze the pads of his fingers across her cheek, chasing the reflected sparkle of light from above as he replied lowly, “Don’t need to see that, to know how it feels.”

“No?”  


“Nah.” He leaned in and his lips brushed hers, tasting the light of the latest firework to explode above them, washing both their bodies over in a golden light as he finished in a whisper against her warm lips, “Feel it every time I kiss you, baby girl.”  


“Oh…” He felt the curve of her smile against his lips, knew she was lighting up brighter than the damn fireworks in the sky above them as she curled her fingers into his shirt, drew him down over her and murmured in a breathy, husky voice, “Then let’s make some more fireworks, Daryl.”

(And after, when they went back to their little apartment and he caught her curled up on the bed with her little pink journal, he wondered if when she checked that item off her list, was she thinking about the lights in the sky or the ones in his eyes as he covered her body with his own and slid into her slow and firm until she exploded herself, brighter and more beautiful than any firework he’d ever seen.) 


	5. Boy at the Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl is a fan of his new routine, and part of that includes going to see Beth perform every Thursday night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "Beth and Daryl are already in a relationship and Beth plays guitar at a bar where Daryl goes to watch her after work."
> 
> (Another one set not really in the actual apartment, but after this we'll go back to their place for a few!)

Daryl Dixon is a fan of routines. It’s funny because he never really used to be. Back when it was him and Merle, they never had a thing like a routine. It was just coasting, wandering, going wherever Merle felt like going and doing whatever he wanted to do next.

Now he has a routine and he kind of likes it. He goes to the garage at the same time every morning, he eats lunch at the same time every day, he gets out every evening when the clock hits 6:30… and on Thursday nights, he makes it to the bar in the next town over, just in time to see Beth Greene perform.

She has a regular spot there every week, and so does he. Only hers is on the stage of course, guitar in hand, and his is at the bar; the seat right at the end closest to the stage, a bottle of beer in his hand and his body half-turned to watch her.

She does a mix of songs; some her own, some favorite covers. Lately she’s been on a kick doing songs from some girl named _Ingrid_. He ain’t never heard of the girl before Beth anyway, but he can’t deny the songs suit her soft, sweet, breathy voice. Like the one she’s [singing right now](https://youtu.be/zdVgCqdV9wI?t=70). 

_“There’s a boy next to me and he never will be anything but a boy at the bar. And I think he’s the tops, he’s where everything stops. How I love to love him from afar.”_  


She’s perched on a stool on the stage, lit by a soft spot light. Her blonde hair is loose tonight, hanging down her back the way he loves. She’s got her favorite brown cowboy boots on, tapping against the ground to the rhythm of the song as she strums it on on her acoustic guitar.

_“When he walks right pass me then I finally see on this bar stool I can’t stay. So I’m taking my frown to a far distant town, on an island in the blue bay…”_  


Tonight she’s wearing a sundress, a soft shade of blue that matches her brilliant eyes. Blue as the noon sky, they find him in the crowd of people (he swears there’s more each week, all here to see her) and hold him, a smile curving up her lips as she croons into the microphone without tearing her gaze from his..

_“Far away far away, I want to go far away. To a new life on a new shore line. Where the water is blue and the people are new. To another island, in another life.”_  


She looks away eventually of course, she can’t keep her eyes fixed on one person for the entirety of the show, he knows that. He sips his beer and watches her the whole time though, and each time she glances back at him he feels his lips twitch, as if the curve of hers is mirrored in his own, or he simply cannot resist.

Daryl isn’t surprised when she comes over at the end of her set, guitar case in hand. She sets it on the ground and hops up on the stool beside him, propping her elbow on the counter and turning to flash him a grin that is even more mesmerizing up close. Like looking into the sun, only there’s no risk of going blind. Well, not literally. There are times he thinks she could render him speechless, at the very least. 

“So what did you think?” Beth asked with a pretty little tilt of her head.  


“Not too bad.” A compliment, by his standards, and he figures she knows it. “So… boy on a bar stool, hm?”  


She gives him a little ‘hmmmm’ sound, tilting her head back and forth until he chuckles at her. Only then does she murmur, “You know you’re not just some boy on a bar stool, Daryl Dixon.”

“No? So you _don’t_  think I’m the tops?”   


“Daryl!” She giggles and brushes her hand down his arm and just like that, it’s like the rest of the damn bar vanishes.   


“Too bad, cause you know-” He takes a long pull of his beer, “-if you wanted to go far away to some nice private island, I could probably manage that…”

“No…” She shakes her head, her eyes flashing with amusement as she reaches out and runs her fingers across the back of his hand. “I mean an island would be nice but all I really want is… to go home.” Her smile widens, curving across her pink lips as she adds softly, “With you.”   


Well, that’s far simpler. Daryl just sets his empty bottle down on the bar, slides off the stool, and offers her his hand as he says easily, “Then let’s go home, Beth.” 

Cause that’s the thing about most of his routine these days. It involves Beth. Waking up beside her every morning, kissing across her neck as she makes them breakfast in their little kitchen, dropping her off at her job before heading to his own, calling her or meeting up with her on his lunch break every day at the same time…

And Thursday nights, coming to see her play, and getting to be the lucky guy who walked out with the gorgeous singer on his arm, to go back to their tiny apartment, together.

Yeah. Daryl is a pretty big fan of routines. Especially ones that involve Beth Greene.


	6. Tummy Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth likes to nap after work, and Daryl has developed his own method of waking her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "What if every time Beth takes a nap or is lying down, her shirt rides up and Daryl can't resist kissing her tummy?"
> 
> (Cute and squishy and one of my favorite scenes from this verse.)

Considering the sort of work Beth did, it never surprised Daryl that she needed to nap most days after work. Hell if he had to work just one day at that daycare full of screaming kids, he’d probably nap for a damn week. Of course Beth wasn’t like him; the kids adored her and just a gentle touch or a hummed little song from her could usually get them to stop screaming. 

But still, she spent eight hours a day handling a pack of energetic kids, so it wasn’t ever a surprise that after coming home she often needed a nap. That wasn’t the amusing part. 

What amused him was that she always chose to nap on the couch instead of the bed. He didn’t get why really; their bed was much more comfortable and far bigger, considering it took up almost all of their bedroom. But time after time she chose the couch, and it became a sort of routine. He’d get done with work at the garage and drive over on his bike to the daycare to pick her up and drive her home to their tiny little apartment. He’d always go get changed into something that didn’t smell like car oil and when he came back she’d be curled up on the little couch (which was really a love-seat), looking almost like a cat all tucked into a ball.

That was how it started, anyway. She’d curl up there and when he came out she’d ask him about his day, listening to his low rumblings until she drifted asleep. He never minded that she fell asleep while they were talking, ‘cause he knew it wasn’t personal, at least not in an offensive way. She liked falling asleep to the sound of his voice, had told him once it comforted her and made her feel safe, and fuck if he was gonna argue with that. 

While she napped he’d unwind in his own way. Sometimes he’d clean his bow, other times he’d watch TV (quietly) or even read a book, one of the worn paperback crime novels Beth had picked up for him at the secondhand bookstore down the street.

He also watched her, because he just couldn’t help it. She was the sweetest, prettiest girl he’d ever known and even in sleep she followed certain patterns that were frankly kind of adorable. 

She’d start all curled up in a little ball, but slowly and surely she’d begin to shift and move. She’d roll a little onto her back and then stretch out, making little kittenish noises in her sleep until she ended up with her ankles hanging over the arm of the sofa and her arm stretched up above her head.

And of course, there was the shirt.

Every time Beth took a nap on that tiny little couch, she’d get to a point in her stretching and squirming where her shirt would begin to ride up. First it would expose just a sliver of skin, then a little more and more, until the soft, pale flat of her belly was temptingly visible beneath the risen hem. 

He couldn’t help but be tempted by it, since he knew first hand just how soft every inch of Beth’s skin was. He’d mapped out that softness again and again with his hands and his lips, and her belly was one of his favorite places. Not just for the warmth and the softness, but the way she always sighed when he kissed her there, the way she’d twine her fingers in his hair and sometimes breathe out a little giggle. 

Every time Beth took a nap, Daryl had to fight to resist the temptation of that exposed skin, and every time he gave in. Day after day without fail would find him kneeling beside the couch, gently stroking his fingers across her pale flesh until she stirred with a soft hum. Only then would he lean in, tracing his lips across her skin from left to right, nose dipping briefly into her navel as she hummed above him. 

Today as always she woke slowly, with a smile curving up her lips. Her eyes stayed closed but he felt her hand brushing up his arm and her fingers shifting to tangle in his hair. “Mmm,” Beth murmured, shifting beneath him as he kissed back across her soft skin. “Time to get up?”

He smiled against her skin, nose nuzzling her stomach as he murmured, “Time to get up, baby girl.” 

Above him she sighed, soft and sweet as her fingers combed through his hair. “You know what my favorite part of napping is?”

Brushing his lips just above the hem of her jeans, Daryl tilted his head to look up at her across the expanse of her stomach and the gently curves of her chest. “What’s that?” 

“This.” With a smile, she brushed her fingers down and grazed her thumb across his cheek. “You waking me up with kisses. That’s my favorite part.” 

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, pressing one more kiss just below her navel before moving up to lean over her. His hair fell into his eyes and as she looked up at him Beth shifted her hand to brush back the dark strands.

“Yeah.” The grin on her lips lit up her eyes with a hint of mischief. “Why do you think I always wear shirts that I know will ride up?” 

Daryl couldn’t help it, he just had to laugh. Low and deep, it rumbled through his chest as he looked down at her, so damn perfect and pink and soft, smiling at him brighter than the damn sun… and of course, laughing right along with him, especially when he reached down to tickle that exposed flesh as he playfully scolded her, “You’re a _tease_ , Greene.”

“A tummy tease?” She giggled and squealed, squirming beneath him until she found her own way to put a stop to it by reaching up, wrapping her arms around him, and drawing him down until their noses nuzzled together. “Yeah, but I’m your tummy tease. And you _loooooove_ me.”

Beth might have been teasing him in a silly voice, but every inch of him was serious as he brushed her lips over hers and whispered back, “Always, baby girl. Always.”

Even if she was a ‘tummy tease’.

Hell, who was he kidding. _Especially_ because of things like that.


	7. Paint Splatters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth thinks they should paint the kitchen. Daryl isn't sure it's such a good idea, until she finds a way to change his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: "Beth and Daryl paint a room and get a little carried away." (The first time anyone specifically asked for something from tiny apartment verse, awww!)
> 
> Also, this is an expanded version of the the one I posted on tumblr, it was a bit short so I added to it.

It had been a long day at work, spending almost his whole afternoon working on some piece of shit car that had a dozen things wrong with it. Frankly his opinion was that the owner should just give up on it, but of course they didn't want to. And Daryl could respect that, in some ways, even if he was annoyed at putting so much work into a car that would inevitably break down again. But it was his job, and so he did it, though by the end of the day all he wanted to do was sink into his seat at the kitchen table and _relax_. Maybe read a book, or tug Beth over to the couch with him and curl up to watch a TV show...

Only Beth seemed to have something else in mind, at least judging by the look in her eyes as she came to a stop in front of him, bare feet toeing the line beneath the archway that separated the kitchen and the rest of the living space. Rocking back and forth over it on her feet, she blurted out, “I think we should paint the kitchen and living room.”

Leaning back in his chair at their tiny kitchen table, Daryl raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the inevitable explanation.

Sure enough it only took a moment before Beth, standing in front of him and still rocking from toe to heel and back again, went on brightly, “We could go pick out colors together and take the day off work, and make it a whole thing. Just imagine how pretty it’ll look!” When Daryl didn’t respond other than to raise a brow again, Beth took it as her cue to plead with him. “Oh come on, Daryl… if we paint the little kitchenette a nice pale yellow, it’ll make it look bigger…”

Daryl chuckled. “Beth, nothing’ll make this tiny apartment look bigger.”

“Okay, okay I know but…” She stuck her hands into the pockets of her little jean overalls, biting her lips as she shrugged her shoulders and peered up at him from under her lashes. “I’ve just always wanted a yellow kitchen, that’s all. But I understand if you don’t want to, that’s fine…”

He knew she meant it. He knew she’d drop it and not be upset, not even say a word. But she didn’t have to. Cause the truth was even if she’d had him at ‘I think we should paint the kitchen and living room’, there was no way on earth he could resist after knowing she’d always wanted a yellow kitchen. Cause whatever Beth wanted, Daryl would do his best to make sure she got. And if she wanted a yellow kitchen, then damn it, she would have one.

And that was what found them that weekend, the counters cleared and covered in taped-down newspaper and all the furniture moved into the center of the room. He was dressed in his rattiest pair of jeans and a worn t-shirt, and Beth had stolen another of his shirts to wear over her ripped pair of jean shorts. 'Painting clothes' she called them; the kinda clothes you wouldn't care if you got paint on. He was pretty sure that was all his clothing but he had to admit she looked extra cute, swallowed up by his oversized shirt. 

She'd had chosen a gorgeous pale yellow for the kitchen; he couldn’t decide what the color reminded him off more, sunshine, or her pretty hair. He’d been the one to pick the color for their tiny living room though, a blue that Beth said reminded her of the sky but that Daryl personally thought reminded him more of Beth’s eyes. The plan was to paint the kitchen first, and then the living room, using the archway between them as a divider.

That was the plan, anyway. The kitchen beyond the archway was so damn tiny that the two of them could barely fit together in the space between the ‘U’ shaped counters, fridge, and oven and there was barely any wall to paint. It should have taken barely any time at all. It should have been easy.

_Should have been_  was the key phrase, of course. Because Daryl hadn’t taken into consideration what being so close to Beth did you him. How tempting she might be with her hair tied up, swishing and brushing her neck as she worked. How being as close to him as he was meant every time he inhaled he could smell the apple scent of her shampoo and the faint hint of honey that lingered on her skin.

He had also not anticipated how damn adorable she would look paint smeared across her cheek. 

“Here, you’ve got something…” Daryl reached out an swiped his thumb across the smear of yellow paint on the apple of her cheek.

“Hey!” Beth narrowed her eyes at him, lowering her paintbrush from the wall to eye him suspiciously. “Did you just smear paint on my cheek?”

Chuckling, Daryl retorted, “No… it was already there, I swear.” He really was being honest. But something about the way she looked just made him wanna smile, and maybe she was reading that smie the wrong way...

“Mhm. Sure it was…” For just a moment he thought she was gonna go back to brushing yellow paint onto their white walls… but instead he watched as she swiped her thumb over her brush and then reached up, her eyes wide with false innocent as she murmured, “Oh look, you’ve got something…” He felt the paint smear across his chin as she breathed out in mock-surprise, “Oh, whoops!

“Whoops?” He’d show her whoops. Grinning, Daryl reached up quickly and thumbed his paint-smeared finger across her nose, leaving a streak of yellow in it’s wake. “Oh look, you’ve got more now, tsk tsk.”

“Tsk tsk, hm?” No longer even trying to look innocent, Beth’s eyes were lit up in delight, a mischievous smirk curving up her lips as she raised her brush and dragged it right down the side of his neck. “Oh, _tsk tsk_ , you’ve got paint _all_  over your neck! How could that have happened??”

“Little minx…” One growl, and it was all downhill from there.

Literally, as they both ended up tangled on the floor, paint staining both their hands as they alternated between tickling each other and wiping paint across whatever expanses of skin they could reach. At one point she had him straddled, pinning him down to smear yellow paint into his hair. But in the next minute she was under him, pressed to the ground and squealing as he slid his hands up under her shirt and tracked paint all over her stomach in the process. 

Daryl was just glad they’d thought to put down paper on the floor, or this would have been a _hell_  of a mess to clean up later.

Although he wouldn’t have complained. How could he, when the entire paint fight ended up with her panting beneath him, shirt tossed into the other room and jeans dangling from her ankles, arching up her gorgeous, paint-spattered body as he made love to her right there on the kitchen floor?

And after, as he lay there with her tucked against his chest, they both looked up at the half-yellow walls and a smile crossed Daryl’s lips too.

“You know, I think you’re right. It _does_  make the kitchen look bigger.” 

“Mmm…” Beth nuzzled her paint-splattered nose against his neck and smiled. “Told you painting was a good idea.” 

“Well. I definitely ain’t complainin’…”

No way, no how.


	8. Power Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl blames himself for them not being able to pay the power bill, but Beth shows him it's not all so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: "There's a month when they can't afford electricity and Daryl is so mad at himself that he can't provide for her but Beth shows him how it can still be beautiful."

Logically, it was a series of events he’d had no real control over. Just a combination of inconvenient things all happening at the same time. The garage he worked at was going through a slow period and had cut down on hours, Beth had gotten sick from one of the kids at the daycare center and had to take off almost a whole week of work (unpaid) and missed her usual gigs singing at the bar in town, not to mention they’d had to fork over money for her medication… and on top of that the truck had broken down and required a costly part that had to be special ordered for him to fix it.  


The result of all that was that after paying the rent and the heat and all the other bills, they’d been unable to pay the electric bill this month and their overzealous electric company had shut off the power.

So yeah, logically it wasn’t really his fault… but of course Daryl wasn’t really thinking logically. No, the word going round and round in his mind all day had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with his own guilt and low self esteem: _Failure, failure, failure…_

Never mind that Beth didn’t seem to blame him. He blamed himself; for not providing better for her, for not finding a better way to stretch their money, for not giving her the best, like she deserved. It was bad enough she was living in this tiny little apartment with him instead of somewhere open and spacious like she deserved, but to add this on top of it all just seemed like even more of a failure.

His guilt didn’t consider the fact that Beth seemed to love their tiny apartment. All-consuming, it pushed back memories of painting each of the rooms with her, of the care she took in finding beautiful (but inexpensive) things to decorate the space with or the delight she showed when the sun shone into the living room just right in the morning, or the way she looked so content every day when they got home every evening after work, or the way she lovingly called it _our place_  or _our home_.

His guilt pushed those things back into the recesses of his mind. It was like a physical, tangible thing, a weight on his shoulders that curled black tendrils around every happy memory and dampened them, hid them away behind stormy clouds and kept only the negative in his mind.

_Failure, failure, failure._

He had been in a black mood all day, since he’d gotten the text from Beth that the power had finally been cut off. It was her day off, but he’d gone into work to pick up a couple extra hours; they needed the money, after all. He should have done it sooner, should have fought to keep his hours or gain more, should have tried to pick up spare jobs to earn a bit of extra cash. That way, he thought as he climbed the stairs and slotted his key into the lock on their front door, he wouldn’t be coming home to a disappointed Beth, to an apartment shrouded in darkness…

Only when he pushed open the front door, it wasn’t darkness he saw at all. It was light. Not the yellowy-white glow of their overhead lights but the flickering orange-yellow glow of candles. Not one, or even several, but at least a dozen of them… probably even more. They were set on every available surface from the kitchen to his left to the living room on his right. He could even see a glimmer of light through the bedroom door across from the entrance where he had paused in surprise. 

And standing amid it all, right in the center of the living room, was Beth. She wore a simple blue dress with her favorite brown cowboy boots. Her loose and wavy blonde hair seemed to glow in the candlelight, and a soft smile lit up her face even further as she watched him step into the living room and close the door behind him.

“I knew having that collection of candles would come in handy eventually,” Beth said, her eyes lingering on him as he silently shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it on the back of the door. “I mean it’s practical of course, but… don’t you think it’s beautiful, too?” 

He turned to her again, drinking her in, hesitating only a moment before he crossed the room towards her in slow steps. But he stopped a foot away, his body still and unwilling to close that gap between them as if he felt unworthy of being any closer to her, of feeling the warmth of her body close to his. 

“I think its beautiful,” she whispered, looking up at him with that depth in her eyes that he knew meant she had more than just an inkling of exactly how he was feeling right now. How he was blaming himself. “I always thought our place looked gorgeous when the sun is shining through but it’s even better lit by candles. We should do this all the time, whether we need to or not.” 

Perhaps it was that same understanding that kept her from closing the gap between them herself. Maybe she knew he needed to do it himself, or wanted him to do it consciously. Whatever the reason, she stayed where she was though her gaze never left his. “I know you so well, Daryl Dixon. I know all day you’ve been thinking this is your fault, but it’s not. Sometimes, life is just… well, shitty.” A faint smile quirked both their lips at the sound of her swearing; a rarity, even if it slipped out more now that she was with him.

“This sucks, but we’ll get through it. And it’s not so bad you know? These candles are lovely, to start. Plus we’ve got a gas stove, so we can still cook. I was thinking we could make a night of it.” She sounded both excited and hopeful at the same time as she went on, “We could cook the hotdogs from the fridge before they go bad, break out the marshmallows and graham crackers and that bar of chocolate left over from the cookout at the farm last week and make s’mores? Hey… if you want, we can even make a blanket fort and sleep in it! Have you ever made a blanket fort before?”

When he shook his head, Beth’s expression softened again and this time when she spoke, it was simple and honest and full of love, “Don’t blame yourself, Daryl. I don’t. This is just another bump in the road that we’ll get through together. Just like we got through savin’ up the money to pay the security deposit on this place, just like we got through me gettin’ sick, and the truck breaking down… _together_. There’s no way I’d rather get through any trouble I might face than at your side.”

He couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t keep that distance from her when her words were exactly what he needed to hear. Daryl bridged the gap between them in just one step. And when she looked up at him and breathed out, “I _t’s alright, Daryl. It’s alright_ ,” he just wrapped his arms around her, and buried her head against her shoulder as she rose up on her toes and wrapped her arms right back around him.

And in the end, it wasn’t the flickering light of the candles that banished the shadows of the guilt that had clung to him all day.

It was her.  Beth Greene, and the sunshine of her honest, genuine love for him.

(And yeah, the candlelit living room was beautiful. But it was nowhere near as beautiful as her.)


	9. Tiny Garden Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl makes a surprise for Beth in the form of a tiny garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original prompt:** "Maybe Daryl plants Beth a flower garden? (because this idea popped into my head while listening to All Time Low's song "Cinderblock Garden" and Daryl is just too sweet for his own good!)"

It’s beginning to get warm out, and Daryl knows that Beth misses certain things about living on a farm. Not the space, at least, he’s slowly becoming more and more content with the fact that Beth is happy in their tiny apartment, happy living hip to hip with him, happy in a closeness that doesn’t feel at all like containment to her. 

But there are some things she misses and one of them, he knows, is the farm’s garden. He knows because of the way she glances out the window one day and offhandedly mentions how right now her Mama was probably planting the herbs in the herb garden, or the way she spots some daffodils outside in the front of their building and remarks with a fond smile that the flowers she’d planted at the farm would be coming up now, too. 

It’s not just knowing that she misses it that sticks in his mind, either. It’s the image of it. Beth, hands deep in dirt as she plants seeds or bulbs, Beth watering them every day, Beth excitedly hovering over them until they begin to sprout and lighting up the room with her smile when they grow bigger and bigger, or flower for the first time.

Once that image was in his mind, he just had to make it a reality.

He waited until that Friday, when he had a day off and she had to go into the daycare. After she left, in a whirl of cheek kisses and a hint of strawberry shampoo, Daryl got to work. Rather than buy anything unnecessarily, he decided to make it all for her himself, heading down to the workroom she’d made for him in the basement of the building. 

With some spare pieces of wood, he cobbled together a sturdy little shelf with two levels, one jutting out on the bottom almost like two steps on a staircase. It was Mrs. Hensen downstairs who contributed several spare pots she had around, leftover from the variety of plants she grew in her own small apartment. After that all he needed to complete his surprise was the cinderblock he’d taken with permission from outside the auto shop, and then a quick trip to the garden store… that, and an hour or so to set it up before Beth got home.

He was ready when she walked through the door, stepping in front of her so she couldn’t see just.

“Daryl, what-”  


“Close your eyes, baby girl.”   


A smile lingered on her lips as she did just that, and he walked around behind her to cover her eyes with his large hands as she softly giggled, “What are you doing?”

“Got a surprise for you,” he murmured, chest pressed to her back as he nudged her forward. “C’mon… take a couple steps forward. You trust me to guide you?”  


“Daryl Dixon,” Beth breathed out almost astonishingly, “I trust you with my life, you silly goose. Of course I trust you to guide me.   


If he hadn’t been so determined to do this surprise right, he’d have kissed her right then. But instead he guided her a few steps into the living area of the small room, right up to the window set in the wall to the left of the couch. 

“Alright,” he murmured, lining her up. “There. Open your eyes.” He drew his hands back and moved almost immediately to her side, just so he could see the look on her face when she saw it.  


The wooden shelves he’d made were set right up against the wall beneath the window; it was tall, which meant it came pretty close to the ground, perfect for the shelf he’d built. He’d set up the little pots from Mrs. Hensen, three on each level; a couple of them were just simple terracotta, but one was a gorgeous glazed green and the other a sky-blue that made him think of Beth’s eyes. 

And there was more, of course. The window was open, and on the thick ledge outside he’d set the heavy cinder block. Pots would have been at risk of blowing away out there but the cinderblock was sturdy, and he’d filled the two openings with the same potting soil that rested in a bag leaning against the wall next to the window, right beside the packets of seeds, and two little plastic pots he’d gotten from the garden store, already with pansy seedlings growing in them.

“I uh… I made the shelf,” he remarked, biting his lip as he looked from her to the window and back again. “Mrs. Hensen gave me the pots. Five of them are empty but she said the blue one has daffodils in it, she planted them in th’ fall. Told me you have to plant bulbs in the fall, I didn’t know that. But y’ can see they’re sprouting, so you should have flowers soon, those and the pansies. I figured we- you, I mean- could plant the rest as seeds and watch ‘em grow, you know?” 

He wasn’t sure why he was rambling, usually she was the one who did that, but he was so damn nervous all the sudden he couldn’t seem to help it. “Anyway I just, uh… well I know you miss your garden and I wanted you to have somethin’, even if this ain’t as grand or nothin’. That’s all.”   


“Daryl Dixon.” Beth breathed out his name as she turned towards him, and the smile that curved up her lips was yet again the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. “It’s _perfect_. I don’t need grand, okay? All I need is you and this tiny apartment, and this garden is just right for that, you hear me?”   


Despite the fierce return of his desire to kiss her right then, she was the one who beat him to it, rising up on her toes and pressing her lips to his in a loving kiss until both of them were breathless with it.

(And if she got a bit of dirt on them both later because he couldn’t seem to help himself at the sight of her curling her fingers into the dirt and laughing so happily, well, she didn’t seem to mind much either. After all, the mess they made was just another excuse to take a shower together once they were done…)


	10. Secretly Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth gets a cold and Daryl takes care of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original Prompt:** "Beth gets a silly little cold that only lasts like a couple days, but daryl goes into some full on caregiver mode anyway."

If asked who was the nurturing one of the two of them, by all rights most people would have likely said Beth. She after all was the one who worked at a daycare, the one who always stopped to pet puppies and dogs she saw on the street, the one who helped lost kids get back to their parents and spent some of her free time carefully growing plants in the little pots in the window of their apartment. 

People looked at Daryl and saw a rough, silent sort of guy; a guy who drove a rumbling old truck and worked on cars for a living, a guy who went hunting for fun and was more likely to grunt at you than actually form words in response to a question. They didn’t see a caring man, they saw a tough man, one who looked like he’d sooner glare at you than extend a helping hand, let alone be at all sweet.

But they’d just never seem him the way Beth had. They saw her dropping down to scoop affectionately cuddle dogs on the street, but didn’t see the way he always took a picture of it on his phone to save, or the way he leaned down after to gently pat the dog’s back. They heard her talk about all the plants that lined the tiny windowsill in their apartment but didn’t know that he was the one who had set them all up to begin with, let alone that he watered them every morning and even sometimes could be caught talking to them since that time Beth had told him that it would make them grow better. 

They saw Beth, bright and bubbly and eager to chat with any little kid that came up with her and didn’t notice that Daryl, despite his gruffness and reservations, would never turn a kid away if they were in trouble. They were so sure of their judgements of him that their eyes skipped right past, so that they didn’t see him listen patiently to a kid telling him some long, winding story, and didn’t see when he did things like take a little kid’s hand and help her find her lost teddy bear one day when he’d come to pick Beth up from work early.

And of course they didn’t see him in moments like this, when she was home sick with what she kept telling him was _just a cold_ even as he continued to insist on taking care of her. Only she got to see him like this, and maybe that made it more special. Only she got to experience him tucking her under the covers and kissing her forehead. Only she got to eat the toast he’d made for her in the morning and nibble the crackers he’d brought to her without even being asked mid-day, and sip at the chicken noodle soup he’d made from a can that evening after a trip to the store.

The same trip during which he’d gotten far too many cold supplies; tissues, cough syrup (just in case), nasal spray, cold medicine, and chapstick, not to mention a stack of her favorite magazines and a pretty little candle to set on the table beside her bed. He even dragged out the heating pad from the very top of their narrow bedroom closet and set that up to help with her aches, brought in her phone and speakers to set up some of her favorite music, and kept offering to readjust her blankets or bring her the spare pillow.

She kept telling him he would just get sick staying so close to her, but he didn’t seem to care. “Cold ain’t nothing,” he’d murmured as he stretched beside her on the bed that took up most of their room and shifted his arm under her until she curled against his chest. “Not t’ me. Not when it comes to helpin’ you feel better.”

So that was how she ended up napping stretched out on top of him, and how she ended up being brought gently awake by the kisses he pressed across her cheeks and lips. Kisses they couldn’t seem to stop sharing, despite her being sick. Kisses that continued as he lifted her into his arms and carried her into their tiny bathroom, where despite the impossibly small space he helped her undress and then climbed naked right into the shower with her.

Of course, no one got to see moments like this, because they were all hers. Taking a long hot shower with Daryl gently keeping her upright, his hands gliding lovingly and affectionately over her body as he pressed kisses to her lips… that was all hers. Just like the secret sweet, nurturing man he was beneath the gruffness was all hers, too. No one else got to see him like that.

(Just like no one else got to see the way he was a couple days later when he got a cold, too, all sniffling and helpless, loving every moment of being coddled by Beth, who was more than happy to return the favor for the man she loved.)


	11. Scrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth finds a stray kitten outside. It isn't her adopting a stray that surprises Daryl, but his own attachment to the little scrap of black fur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original Prompt:** "I thought it would be cute if Beth found a stray cat outside their building and nurses it back to health and then wants to keep it. Daryl doesn't want to because their apt is so small. But the cat is awesome and cuddles him and he grows to love it too!"

When the first thing Beth said to him as soon as he’d stepped into their apartment was “don’t be mad”, Daryl should have known to expect trouble. Then again it was Beth; he couldn’t remember a time he’d _ever_  actually been mad at her. Mad at himself, sure, that happened all the time. But at her? Never.  


So all he did was raise an eyebrow and watch her with a bemused expression until she rose up from the couch and held out her cupped hands in front of her. There, nestled against her palms, was [a tiny little black kitten](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4jyh7h1xrn4/UcG6rPRJuDI/AAAAAAAAD_A/gcGD69xcsPQ/s640/Black-kitten-5470.jpg). 

“I heard it crying outside when I took out the trash,” Beth said quickly, as if somehow still afraid he’d be upset with her somehow. “I almost didn’t find it until I realized that the sound was coming from _under_ the dumpster, not inside of it.” She looked down at the kitten in her hands, and even if he’d been ready to scold her (which he really hadn’t), that urge would have dissipated in the face of the expression she made now, and the thick sorrow in her voice as she went on, “There were three other kittens with it, but… but they were all dead. This was the only one I could save. Daryl-” 

He was pretty sure he’d never seen those big blue eyes quite as plaintive as they were looking up at him now, widened and bright with unshed tears as she whispered, “I know we can’t keep it here but can we at least take care of it, until we find some place for it to live? Please? It’ll die if we don’t help it and I know how, I helped my Daddy with kittens plenty of times before… oh please, Daryl.” 

If he was stunned into silence for a few moments, it wasn’t at the request itself. It was at the fact that he thought she had to make it at all, let alone so pleadingly. But he got over that shock within a few seconds, and reassured her the best way he knew how; by crossing the gap between them and pressing a kiss to her forehead as he murmured, “You don’t even need t’ ask, baby girl. Of course we can help it. But you’re right, we can’t keep it. You gotta keep that in mind, alright? This apartment is too tiny for _us_ , let alone a cat. Just don’t get too attached… you hear me?” 

The way she’d looked up at him, eyes all wide and a tremulous smile on her lips as she cradled that little kitten to her chest… he should’ve known that warning was doomed from the start.

He’d never realized how much work it was to take care of a kitten that young. He’d only just gotten home and already Beth had sent him out to fetch the things she’d needed, including a bottle and kitten formula. (He’d been amused at the look she’d given him when he’d asked innocently if they couldn’t just have regular milk. Apparently that was a big no no.)

Kitten formula turned out to be expensive, but it was worth it the moment he came home and saw Beth on the couch with the kitten curled against her chest, visible through a gap in her button-down shirt.  She was determined to care for the kitten as best she could, preparing bottles, feeding it, letting it sleep in their room in a box next to the bed so that she could be ready when it woke up in the middle of the night crying from hunger, even keeping a mug warmer plugged in on the nightstand so she could keep a bottle warm on it.

He told himself it was all hers. Her kitten, her decision to foster it, her responsibility. He’d never been one for animals, really; had never had even a goldfish as a kid, since his Pa would never let him. 

But he’d underestimated not only how hard the kitten was to resist, but how hard _Beth_ was to resist. It helped of course that their apartment was so impossibly tiny; the very lack of space that had him reminding her they couldn’t keep the cat also worked to ensure he was constantly aware of it. If he went into the main room it was to see Beth cradling the kitten in one arm while making a bottle with the other, if he went into the bedroom he found her playing with the kitten in it’s box, or cuddling up to it on the bed. And that, of course, was irresistible, a fact evidenced by the 100+ pictures of her and that kitten that took up all the space on his phone. 

Daryl had always been the kind of person to avoid forming personal attachments. It hadn’t been hard to manage, until Beth. She’d just slipped her way right under his walls as if they weren’t even there and burrowed herself right up against his heart before he’d even noticed. It should have prepared him for the same thing happening all over again, but he’d figured Beth was a once-in-a-lifetime kinda deal.

And she was, of course she was. When it came to people, anyway. _Scrap_ , as she called their little black kitten, was an exception of her own. 

He’d learned to take care of the kitten sort of, though he (the gender had finally been determined by Beth’s Pa) seemed to prefer Beth. He got that. Who wouldn’t prefer being cared for by sweet, nurturing Beth over him? 

Beth was in love with the kitten, he’d known that pretty much since the first day she’d brought the little scrap of black fur home. He, on the other hand, tried to keep his distance. Not just because that was how he was, but because he knew (or kept telling himself, anyway), that they couldn’t keep him.

He told himself again and again that their apartment was too small, that Scrap deserved more space to play in, that they still had trouble meeting the bills each month and couldn’t afford to pay for his bills if anything went wrong. He repeated those things over and over each time he saw Beth cuddled up with the little kitten, or the first time he caught Scrap trying to hunt a bug and found himself thinking about what a good little hunter he’d become, or when he developed the habit of only bringing his toy mouse to Daryl and not Beth.

 _We can’t keep him_ , he told himself for the hundredth time as the tiny furball dropped his bright pink mouse right in front of them, and he forcefully tried to harden his walls to stop Scrap from getting under them.

But of course it was already too late, though he didn’t realize it. Not until the Saturday where Beth had to go into work all day and into the evening for the daycare center’s yearly big cleaning, meaning that he was the only one there when Scrap began to throw up and wouldn’t stop. He didn’t even think twice about money or expenses, not in the face of that little ball of fur shivering on the carpet and barely able to walk.

Daryl had just scooped him right up without even bothering to get his carrier, nestling the kitten into his shirt and keeping him there the entirety of the drive to Beth’s family farm, whispering ‘it’ll be alright, Scrap, you’ll be alright’  every few seconds, right up until he could hand him over to Beth’s dad. Even then he refused to leave Scrap's side, hovering through the entire examination and interjecting his worried questions (“Will he be okay? Is he sick?”) and then listening raptly and with relief as Hershel explained the problem was just that he’d eaten something that disagreed with him and he’d be fine as long as they made sure the kitten was getting his milk and liquids and resting. 

Hershel might have promised that Scrap would be fine, but Daryl took extra care with him the whole way home, keeping him tucked up against his chest despite Annette offering to let him borrow a cat carrier. When Scrap seemed worn out, more inclined to nap than to run around like he usually did, Daryl made sure he could keep an eye on him in the way that seemed most logical; by letting the little ball of black fur sleep right on him, where he knew he’d be safe.

So when Beth came home that evening, frantically rushing into the door to check on her ‘sick baby’, it was to find Daryl stretched out on the couch with the kitten curled beneath his chin, right against his neck. She didn’t even hesitate to fit herself right into place with them, stretching between Daryl’s legs and laying on top of his chest to nuzzle her nose against his chin with a sigh.

“He’s okay?” 

He nodded and hummed. “He’ll be alright. Your Dad says to make sure he takes it easy for a couple days and watch to make sure he don’t eat nothin’ he shouldn’t.” 

Beth sighed and trailed off into relieved silence, but as he ran one hand lightly through her hair Daryl found himself saying after a moment, “I was thinking, though… maybe we should take a trip to the pet store tomorrow.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s gonna need a bed soon instead of just that box, and your Dad says once he’s feelin’ better we can start trying him on some wet kitten food with the milk, and he keeps losing them mouse toys he like so much, so maybe we could get him more…” 

“Huh.” Beth’s hummed surprise had Daryl tilting his head to look down at her, careful not to dislodge the kitten curled beneath his chin. At his silent question, she just gave him a smile. “Nothing, it’s just… I thought we weren’t getting him all that stuff because we were gonna find him a family to live with once he was big enough…”

Daryl just settled his head back and looked up at the ceiling, but his other hand came up to stroke gently along the soft black fur of Scrap’s back as he murmured after a moment, “Nah. I reckon he's already got one of those.” 

Yeah. That damn cat had gone and made herself his family without him even noticing. It figured, though. He was Beth’s cat, after all, and if there was anyone who knew how to worm her way into his heart, it was his baby girl. 

He’d never stood a chance, in the end. He should have known that from the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'M SO EXCITED YOU GUYS FINALLY GET TO MEET SCRAP!! Haha.)


	12. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth knows exactly what Daryl needs at night when his nightmares strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original Prompt:** "Okay but now i want beth comforting daryl after a nightmare in tiny apartment verse."

It always starts with a little whimper. It’s not the kind of sound Beth ever would have imagined coming from Daryl’s lips. Grunts and growls and even sometimes laughs, yeah, but not whimpers. But then again, those whimpers aren’t the sort of sound she ever hears from him except on nights like this, nights when his past catches up to him in his sleep. **  
**

It doesn’t happen every night. Sometimes not even every week. She thinks it’s happening less and less often, as if his new life with her in their little apartment is helping to push back the darkness of his past, like a slowly widening circle of light around him keeping the darkness at bay. That light that they’ve made, it works more and more with each passing day, but some nights, it still isn’t enough. Some nights the darkness gets through. It doesn’t happen much, but when it does happen, it starts with a whimper.

His lips part in a whisper, and in his sleep he groans, and his body begins to shudder as his skin goes damp with a cold sweat.

Beth knows this because she’s always right there. Every time, that first whimper seems to pull her right out of sleep as if some part of her knows the moment she hears it that he needs her. 

She remembers how when she was a kid, her Mama used to always know when she was sick or scared at night. How sometimes all she had to do was whisper her name or softly cry, and her Mama would be there in the doorway, like she just _knew_. Beth had always thought it was a mother thing, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just something she got from her Mama. Another thing they had in common.

Whatever it was, every time he gives that little whimper it pulls her right out of whatever dream she’s having. She just knows, and she is there. For him. She might be groggy, but she’s still there for him. 

Every time, Beth finds him curled on his side, in a sort of fetal position that makes her heart ache a bit because it reminds her of a scared little child. In fact, she’s never seen him more child-like than he is in the middle of the night, when memories of his past catch up to him and he curls up like the child he was, or maybe like the child he was never truly allowed to be. A child who was tormented, a child who always felt alone.

But he’s not alone on nights like this, because she’s there. She’s always there. Shifting up against his back from behind and pressing her forehead against his warm bare skin, wrapping her arms around him as he tremble against her. She doesn’t wake him, at least not forcefully. When he’s dreaming of what she knows he’s dreaming of, the last thing she wants to do is grab him and shake him awake. 

Beth knows he needs to find his way through it, but that doesn’t mean she can’t guide him. And she does, with sweet whispers against his back, “It’s okay, Daryl, I’m right here. I’m right here, sweetie, I’m right here with you…” It’s the only time she calls him nicknames like that. The only time she needs to, when he is trembling like that frightened, lost child.

With soft kisses to his back and the brush of her hand up and down his arm, she feels him begin to shift. She feels him come out of his nightmare with a tremor and a gasp and a jolt in her arms. She doesn’t ask what it was that he was dreaming about. She never asks, not just because she doesn’t need to, but especially because _he_ doesn’t need to.

He doesn’t need to talk about it, to give those words voice, to make them feel even more real than they felt when he was caught up in them, tangled in them, haunted by them. She doesn’t need to hurt him more by making him relive that all yet again.

Instead she just holds him as he draws in deep breaths and shudders in her arms. She holds him, rubbing her hand up and down his arm as her lips press over his back, trace across the marks on his back to sooth the same scars that burned fresh in his nightmares. She holds him as if she could wrap her frame around him like she isn’t half his size, as if she could protect him, shield him against everything bad he’s ever gone through.

Beth hold him until his trembling finally begins to fade, until he shifts to find her hand and laces their fingers together and then tugs their entwined hands right up to his chest.

“Baby girl…” He whispers the nickname, rough and shaky in the darkness.

“I’m right here,” she murmurs back again lips grazing his shoulder and lingering there, reassuring him with the warmth of her kisses and of her body, pressed against his own. “I’m right here, Daryl, and I’m not going anywhere. Just close your eyes again, alright? I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

She does not let go, and he does not turn. Not on those nights, the ones that start with his whimpers. They stay like that, her pressed against his back with her lips to his shoulder and her hand curled in his and clutched tightly to his chest as they lay there in their warm bed that fits just snugly right in their tiny little bedroom.

On those nights, she is like his shield. The nightmares don’t come again when she holds him like that and keeps him safe. When she reminds him that he is loved, and that the things that creep up from his past to worm dark tendrils into his mind can’t hurt him, anymore. Not with her there to keep him safe, in their tiny little apartment all full of their love.


	13. Sundays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sundays were their days, and Beth and Daryl always began them together in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original Prompt:** "Could you please write some sweet smut for the tiny apartment universe?"

Their days had formed a certain pattern. During the week they worked; he dropped her off at the day care in the morning and then picked her up each evening after his shift at the auto shop. They came home and napped or made dinner together, then used their remaining few hours to unwind from their long days cuddled up together with a nice book and their purring kitten. On Saturdays they did errands and went to Beth’s family’s farm for dinner, staying into the evening and coming home tired and happy. But Sundays? Those were their days.

In the mornings they would sleep in, a content tangle of limbs warmed by sunlight, tucked together under the comforter in their small bed. Usually Daryl woke first, accustomed as he had always been to rising when the sun did. Before Beth that had meant getting out of bed and getting a move on with his day, but now it was different. Now it meant lingering in bed, looking down at Beth laying half on top of him and studying the way her arm slung over his stomach and the fall of her blonde hair across his chest. 

He would run his fingers up and down her back, just for the simple pleasure of being able to do so. Sometimes he would drift back to sleep for a bit, lulled by her warmth, but other times his light touch were draw her out of her dreams and pull her back to him.

Watching her wake up was a simple pleasure that he relished every time. First she would just hum and snuggle closer, making sounds almost like a content little cat. But soon the stroking of his fingers on her back would coax a sigh from her lips; every time without fail, as if her back were a delicate instrument he knew just how to strum to pull the sounds from her lips. 

She was always all prettily flushed when she woke up, from the warmth of their room and his body. Her cheeks would be pink, her eyes hazy and dark with sleep, and a slow smile would curve across her lips as she blinked up at him.

Most days, they would get up like that and start their morning routines. But not Sundays. Sundays, they lingered. Her lips would find his in a slow kiss and soon they’d be wrapped up in each other. Sometimes he would roll her over, cover her slender body with his own and kiss her until she wrapped herself around him; hands splayed at his back, legs tight around his waist. Her hand would slip down over his side to cup his hip and tug him closer as she spread her knees in an invitation he always took. 

Sometimes instead she would stay on top. She would straddle him, spreading her thighs to accommodate his, surrounding him in a curtain of hair that looked and smelled like as they kissed. His hands would follow the paths of her body, over the curves of her hips and the dip of her waist and up, to the perfect swells of her breasts that fit so perfectly into the palms of his hands. 

Either way, it always ended the same; him deep within her, stroking into her tight heat and bringing them as close as they could possibly be. Their old bed would creak to their rhythm whether he was on top, hands braced on either side of his head and hips driving down, or on bottom, watching the incredible sight of her riding him, strong, soft, fierce, and beautiful at the same time. 

And with the sun shining through the room and the warm air filled with their mingled gasps and moans, they would come together, her pulsing around his cock, him throbbing and spilling within her, both of them crying out each other’s names in breathy gasps or low, needy growls-

“ _Daryl!”_  
“God, _Beth_ …”   


-before collapsing in a tangle of sweaty limbs. 

Soon they would climb out of bed together and get ‘dressed’ for the day, moving in practiced rhythm through the small space; Beth putting on one of his sleeveless shirts with none of the buttons done, him tugging on a pair of boxers or briefs and nothing else. They’d laugh together at Scrap’s needy meows from his box beside their bed, and Beth would scoop him up and carry him along with them for his morning feeding. Then they’d make breakfast together in their tiny kitchen, nearly as tangled up as they were between the sheets; his arms around her waist and the scruff of his beard turning the skin of her neck pink in between kisses. They’d eat and then curl up on the couch together, barely fitting on the little loveseat and yet absolutely content, with her back to his chest and his arms around her waist, Scrap curled in Beth’s lap as they lazily watched TV, or a movie. 

Sundays were their days. Lazy, relaxed, full of kisses and touches and tangled limbs. And they always started like this, with the taste of her on his tongue and the warmth of her body wrapped around his own.

Sundays were his _favorite_  day to share with Beth, just the two of them in their tiny apartment.


	14. First Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Beth meet for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original Prompt:** "Sooo is there a cute story behind how Beth and Daryl met in Tiny-Apartment verse?"

There was a long list of places Daryl Dixon would never have expected to find himself at and a daycare center was definitely on that list, although granted maybe not right at the top. Still, it wasn’t exactly the sort of place he’d have any reason to be at; or at least it wouldn’t have been a couple years ago, before he’d settled down and made friends with a sheriff of all people.

It had been Rick who’d offered him the room above his garage to stay at instead of a dingy motel room, and Rick who’d helped him get a job at the local auto shop, not to mention Rick who had pretty much ensured he didn’t end up in jail like his big brother had. So it was the least he could do to take Rick and his wife Lori’s little girl Judy to her daycare this morning, after Rick had gotten called into the police station early and Lori wasn’t feeling well.

That was how he ended up walking up the sidewalk to a neat little brick building with his rough, work-worn hand curled around the tiny hand of a little blonde-haired toddler. 

Friends with a cop, working a regular job, eating homemade breakfast every morning and walking hand in hand with a little girl in a pink dress and pigtails who wouldn’t stop babbling on to her friend ‘Da-wul’? Merle wouldn’t have recognized him; that was, if Merle’d been around to see it and not off doing time for fucking up on a deal yet again. 

Hell, to be honest he barely recognized himself as he scooped the little girl into his arms and tugged open the door to the small daycare center to carry her inside.  


“Time to hang out with all your little friends, alright Judy?” But as he stepped through the door and into the large open room, the girl began to fuss and whine in his arms, her little face scrunching up as if she was working to a good cry. Frankly, he understood the feeling. The room was filled with kids, the din of their laughs and shrieks making him want to put the girl down just so he could cover his ears. That wasn’t even taking into account his desire to flee just so he could avoid their sticky little hands.  


Kids _always_  had sticky fuckin’ hands, and hell if he knew how they managed that. 

But despite the tough guy he’d been all his damn life, he couldn’t just abandon the little girl in his arms.

(She wasn’t his, of course, but he still wasn’t gonna be like his Ma and Pa. Wasn’t gotten just leave her behind, act like what she was feeling didn’t matter. He definitely wasn’t even gonna _think_  of slappin’ her for fussin’, like his Pa would have in a heartbeat.)

“C’mon, sugar. I know you’re tired and y’ miss your Ma droppin’ you off, but it ain’t so bad, is it? Look…” He turned her in his arms, pointing to the stuffed animals in the corner. “You could go, uhh… have a tea party or somethin’, with those bears and dolls… shit, I don’t even know if you like t’ have tea parties.”  


(Fuck if he knew what normal, happy little kids did, let alone little girls.)

Daryl grunted, feeling like an idiot, but shifted Judith in his arms to look into her eyes after a second. “Alright, you know what I need? I need you t’ just be brave for me, that’s what. You can do that, right? Ain’t you my lil’ asskicker?” When Judith giggled, Daryl felt something inside of him untwist. Something warm, amused, _happy_.

But it was nothing compared to how he felt a moment later. First there was the uncomfortable surprise he felt when he heard someone clear their throat and suddenly realized that he wasn’t alone; there was someone standing beside him who was definitely taller than the knee-high kids running around the place. And when he looked up and met the new arrival’s eyes, it wasn’t just like something untwisting inside of him. It was like his stomach _swooped_. Like he was ridin’ that big old wooden rollercoaster down in Atlanta, the one he and Merle had gone to over a decade and a half ago. 

Only he wasn’t on no ride now, it wasn’t no massive drop making his stomach feel like that. It was just a girl. Well… a woman. It was ‘ _just’_  a tiny little blonde women with the biggest damn blue eyes he’d ever seen, and the sweetest little smile on her pretty pink lips and lord, he was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone like her before.

Maybe it was because he’d never come into a place like this before in his life.

(Or maybe she was just somethin’ special.)

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “I guess there ain’t much of a chance you didn’t hear me call her that, is there?”   


“No.” She was honest; he liked that. He also liked the mirth that sparkled in her eyes as she rocked on her feet and teased, “But there’s a good chance I can pretend I didn’t anyway, since Miss Judy here doesn’t seem to mind. Is that right, Judith?”  


Instantly the toddler was all smiles and giggles, reaching her arms out to the blonde haired woman as she squealed, “Beth! Beth Beth Beth!” 

With a chuckle, Daryl mock-grumbled, “Traitor…”

“Don’t be too jealous, Judy and I just go way back. Isn’t that right, sweet pea?” As Judith gave another giggle, Beth added, “I’ve been babysitting her since she was born, pretty much. And once I graduated and started working here officially, Lori signed her right up.”   


He opened his mouth to reply, but right on cue Judith began to squirm in his arms, suddenly eager to be set down as if she hadn’t just been fussing herself up to a cry over being here barely a minute ago. “Alright alright, calm down…”

“Why don’t you say goodbye to your friend, sweetie, and then he’ll put you down, hm?”   


Judging by the way Judy instantly turned to press a kiss to Daryl’s cheek, he wasn’t the only one who felt like he’d do just about anything to keep seeing a smile like the one on Beth’s lips right now. “Bye bye, Da-wul! Down now! Down, down!”

“Okay okay, little- Er, Judy. Here you go.” As soon as he set Judith down she was off, heading right to the opposite corner where a container of large Legos was spread out on the floor. His gaze lingered on her for a moment to make sure she was alright, before he glanced back at Beth.  


Without the toddler in his arms, he felt suddenly out of place, rocking back on his scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Uhh… I guess I better get goin’ then…” 

“You’re Daryl, right?” When he raised an eyebrow at her, Beth went on, “Well I figured that’s what she was calling you. I’ve heard Sheriff Grimes mention you once or twice, when he came by to pick up Judith and I put two and two together. You’re staying with the Grimes for a bit, right?”  


“Mhm.” He wasn’t gonna say more. He _wouldn’t_  have said more, if it were anyone else. Daryl tended to be of the opinion that his life weren’t nobody’s business but his own. Only Beth was looking at him with those cornflower blue eyes, every inch of her sweet and polite and friendly, and it just seemed easy to add, “They’re good people.”  


“They really are. Judith is a little sweetheart, and Carl is too, even if he is still going through that whole…”  


“Teenager stage?”  


“I was going to say rebellious, but I think teenager covers it.” Beth giggled, and despite himself Daryl laughed too, a low and rumbling chuckle that had Beth’s smile widening a little bit more.   


There was something about her that threw him all off kilter, made him unsure. Like he wanted to keep standing there just talking to her, only that was such an unfamiliar feeling that at the same time it made him want to turn tail and run. Which was probably why he darted another glance to the door, only to hear her murmur, “I’m sorry, you probably want to go to work. I shouldn’t keep you. It was nice meeting you, Daryl.” 

“Uh huh…” He nodded and gave a little grunt. “You too, Beth.”   


Even as he turned towards the door he felt pulled in the other direction. Found himself wantin’ to make an excuse to check on Judy or something, to stay here a little bit longer, give himself more time to figure out who the hell this woman was and why she made him feel so strange; so eager, so awkward, so unsure, all at the same time.

Maybe that was why he paused the moment he heard her voice behind him calling out, “Will I see you this afternoon, when it’s time for Judy to go home?”

Because he was 100% sure Beth and the strange way she made him feel was exactly why he glanced over his shoulder without hesitating and replied, “Sure.” 

With a nod at the bright smile she gave him, Daryl headed out the door and back to his truck, trying to push that blonde-haired girl out of his mind at least for a few moments.

After all he had to try and figure out how to explain to Rick his sudden desire to pick Judy up from daycare tonight… and drop her off again tomorrow… and maybe the next day, too… 


	15. Motorcycle Rides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Daryl have their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** "Maybe something from the beginning like it's Beth's first motorcycle ride and she's scared and Daryl convinces her she is safe with him."
> 
> (This is set two weeks after their first meeting, obviously this is backstory, before they ended up in their tiny apartment.)

By six in the evening, the day care center was quiet. The children had long since been picked up by their parents and Beth, scheduled for the closing shift today, had spent the last hour or so tidying the place up for the weekend. She’d picked up the toys, cleaned out the fridge, cleaned up the bathrooms, and then began to sweep the kitchen floor. As she worked, Beth simply enjoyed the silence that came after a long day. It was peaceful, filled with nothing but the sounds of her own footsteps, and occasionally her soft singing. It was only as she emptied the dust pan into the trash can and moved to slip the broom back into the closet that she was interrupted by a knock at the front door.

Brow furrowed, Beth moved through the open space towards the entrance. She could see a tall shape vaguely silhouetted through the glass as she drew closer, calling out as she reached for the handle, “I’m sorry, we’re closed, were you-” But just as she pulled open the door, the dark shape beyond the glass became unexpectedly familiar. Beth blinked in confusion but only for a moment before a warm smile curved up her lips. “Daryl, what are you doing here? Lori came to get Judy over an hour ago…” 

She couldn’t help but remember that, and not simply because she paid attention to each of the children and who picked them up at the end of the day. She’d noticed Lori in particular tonight, because it had been the first time in two weeks that Daryl hadn’t come for her. 

For the past two weeks, ever since that first day he’d come to the daycare to drop Judith off, she’d seen him every single day. Sometimes he dropped Judy off and picked her up, other times he had to go into work early so he only picked her up at the end of the day instead. But he _always_  came, especially for pick-up. So when he hadn’t showed up this evening, she’d admittedly been a bit confused… and perhaps even a little sad.

It wasn’t like they were in a relationship or anything. Far from it, actually. It had so far never been anything more than a casual acquaintence, despite the fact that he had unexpectedly started dropping off and picking up Judith even though the little girl’s parents were more than capable, despite the fact that she flirted sweetly with him whenever he came in, and that she’d even managed to get a smile out of him a few times. They’d never seen each other outside of the day care center, hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers yet. 

Frankly she would have given up, if it weren’t for the butterfly sensations she got every time she looked at him or even thought about him. If it hadn’t been for how she smiled every time she heard the jingle of the door in the morning or afternoon, in the anticipation that it’d be him. That… and something Lori had said to her the other morning when she’d dropped Judy off. Beth had mentioned Daryl and how good he was with Judy, and Lori had replied something like: “It took me awhile to realize what a good man Daryl is. He’s so quiet. People think he’s a big grump or something, but he’s really just private and shy.” 

It had been something Beth had guessed on her own, but it was nice to have it reaffirmed by someone else who knew him better than she did. And it helped, to set that idea of him being private and shy against the voice in her mind that whispered that he just wasn’t interested.

It was a voice that had nonetheless gotten louder today when he hadn’t come by to pick up Judith, though. A voice that whispered that maybe it had only been a passing fancy, that maybe he’d found someone more interesting than a sweet little farm girl turned glorified baby sitter.

Yet here he was, standing outside the door to the daycare. He was dressed nicer than she’d seen him before; his jeans clean and without a single hole, and his flannel shirt still containing its sleeves for once. His hands were stuck in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels, peering down at her through a fringe of hair to remark, “I know. I, uh… this morning, you said you’d be the last one here closin’ today, and I thought…”

He trailed off into silence for a moment, but Beth didn’t push him. She stayed quiet, despite the hint of excited impatience bubbling up within her, making her ache to know what was on the tip of his tongue. Instead she leaning against the edge of the open door, curling her fingers around it and looking up at him with a soft, inviting smile, until he made himself speak again.

“Was wonderin’ if, uh, if maybe you might like t’ go out with me tonight. To dinner, or somethin’. I mean, if you ain’t got plans.” By the time he got the words out he was looking firmly down at the ground, scuffing his booted foot against the sidewalk. He cleared his throat and then peered up at her a bit as he finished lowly, “If you got plans, or you just don’t want, I understand. S’fine.” 

“I don’t have plans.” Beth’s reply was without hesitation, soft and sure. 

Seeming surprised, his head darted up, and his eyes widened as they fixed on her. “No?”

“No.” Her lips curved up wider, and she reached out to him, briefly squeezing his arm. The contact made her fingers tingle as she replied, “I’d love to get dinner with you, Daryl. Just let me turn off all the lights and grab my bag?”

“Sure. Yeah, sure. Anythin’. I’ll, uh. I’ll be right out here.” Despite the way he fumbled over the words, Beth could see a change in him. A hint more confidence, a glimmer of a smile at the corners of his lips as he looked up at her and stepped back from the doorway. 

God, the sight of him made her stomach go all fluttery. _Butterflies riding a rollercoaster_ , she thought to herself with a giggle as she slipped inside, quickly shutting off the lights and grabbing her purse before heading out again. She wasn’t at all nervous as she locked the door behind her and turned to face him. She was excited, _happy_ , bubbling inside at the realization that she’d been right all along. He did like her. All he’d needed was a little time, and patience.

Beth only felt that stirring of nerves when she glanced around Daryl and realized that his usual truck was nowhere to be seen. Instead it was a motorcycle, parked directly behind him, a helmet resting on the seat and another in Daryl’s hand. 

“You rode your bike here?”

“Yeah. Figured, well… I ain’t got Judy, so I don’t need to use the truck. Thought maybe you’d, uh, like this maybe?” He seemed to doubt himself the more he went on, twisting the rim of the helmet in his hands as he watched her, and Beth felt something in her lurch. She hated seeing him doubt himself. 

“I’ve just never ridden one before, that’s all. And I…” She took a step closer to him, biting her lip as she peered up at him. He was so much taller than her, despite not being overly tall compared to some men. It helped that he seemed so strong and muscular, which only made her feel tinier around him. She liked it. The thought made her flush and duck her head, a nervous giggle slipping free as she said, “Promise not to laugh, okay?” 

“Ain’t gonna laugh at you, Beth. Promise.” The solemnity in his voice and his gaze made her breath hitch as she looked up at him.

Reassured by the way he gazed at her, Beth hesitated only a moment before she admitted, “They just… _scare_ me a little. I just worry I’ll fall off or something… Don’t laugh!” 

“I ain’t laughing,” he said again. But his voice was low and warm, and he held her gaze with his own as he took a step closer to her. He seemed to hesitate for a moment as if debating what to say, but his quiet only lasted a moment before he murmured, “D’you think I’d let you fall, Beth? That’s the last thing I’d ever do. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” 

Beth had grown up in a loving family who always took care of her, sometimes even too much, to the point that she felt coddled or smothered. But Daryl didn’t make her feel coddled, and he definitely didn’t make her feel like he was speaking down to her. In fact, she was pretty sure she had never felt as special- almost cherished, in a way- as she did when he was looking at her like that, sounding as if hurting her was the last thing he would ever do. As if it were something he would never allow to happen, no matter what.

He made it easy for her to breathe out simply, “Okay.” 

And when the corner of his lip quirked up into a smile to ask, “Okay?” 

She just smiled and murmured right back at him, “Yes. I trust you, Daryl.” With his smile making the butterflies in her stomach ride a loop-de-loop, Beth reached out to take the helmet he was offering her. She was so flusteredly happy that she kept wanting to giggle, and to stop herself from making a fool of herself, she teased as she secured the helmet on her head, “But you have to promise again not to laugh if I scream, okay?” 

“Well I already promised not t’ laugh,” he remarked, reaching up to adjust her helmet. His nearness distracted her, making her breath hitch almost as much as it did when he smirked faintly at her and teased, “Can’t promise I won’t smile a bit, though.”

“Yeah?” She grinned in return, tipping her heavy helmeted head back to peer up at him and add playfully, “Well I won’t complain about that. I like when you smile.”

Though he was the one to duck his head at that, Beth couldn’t stop her own giggle from slipping free, making her blush again. Her flush lingered as he climbed onto the bike, straddling it in one smooth and decidedly swift motion. And of course it was impossible not to continue to feel all flustered and warm when he directed her to climb on behind him, meaning that she had to press herself closer to her back and wrap her arms around his waist. 

This close she felt all full up with the scent of him; warm leather, a hint of cigarette smoke, that undeniably masculine hint of musk, and something she suspected might be aftershave or perhaps, in his case, simply whatever soap he used. The scent was simple, but instantly and undeniably _Daryl_. It only made the butterflies in her stomach swoop and soar as she held on tightly and pressed herself right up against his back.

But the swooping butterflies couldn’t hold a candle to how it felt seconds later when the bike began to rumble beneath them and Daryl, with one last pause to make sure she was ready, revved the engine and took off to peel across the parking lot. 

Slipping free around the edges of her helmet, her blonde hair whipped in the breeze, and her hands tightened instantly around him, hands pressing flat to his stomach to hold on tight. But Beth didn’t scream. Instead, as they flew down the street on top of his powerful bike, she tipped back her head and just _laughed._

In that moment she didn’t even care where he was going to take her for dinner. This right here, riding her first motorcycle while holding tight to Daryl Dixon? This was the best date Beth had ever had in her life. 

She could drive forever like this, just holding onto him.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to catch you guys up here with the ones I've posted on tumblr, oy! Just because I've got writer's block, doesn't mean you have to suffer! (Plus I wrote a new one tonight and I need to catch up so I can post it here.)


	16. Judy's "Sweepover"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After many, many requests to her Mom, Dad, and anyone who would listen, Judy gets a very special sweepover with "Dawul, Bethy, and Scwap".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original prompt:** "Judy begging to stay the night with Beth and Daryl."

“Da-wul, Da-wul, Da-wul!” 

Judith’s little chubby legs churned, the pitter patter of her feet echoing through the room as she ran towards the door and flung herself at Daryl, giving him just enough time to lean over and catch her as the door to the day care closed behind him.

Rising up with the little toddler in his arms, Daryl held her close and gave her a little smile. “Hey there, sugar. You have a good day?” 

“Uh huh!” Her twin pigtails bounced as she exclaimed bright, “I drew Scwap ‘n Bethy hung up! An’ we had apples, an’ we sang, an’ Bethy said I have pwetty voice.”

“Well I reckon she’s right about that, sugar. You’ve got one of the sweetest voices I know, right next to Beth’s.” Speaking of Beth… as Judith babbled on in his arms, Daryl looked up to see her coming towards them, a smile on her face as she crossed the large open play area of the day care, hips swaying in her favorite jeans with her natural, graceful gait. Instantly he smiled. His gaze was riveted to her as if he didn’t get to see her like this every evening, didn’t get to fall asleep with her in his arms or wake up to the sight of her curled against him. She was the prettiest girl he’d ever known, and he’d never get enough of looking at her. 

“Hey there,” Beth murmured, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek before her eyes flashed mischievously. “She asked again today… that makes every day this week.”

“Did she?” With a hint of a smirk, Daryl glanced down at Judith in his arms, jogging her a bit until she looked up at him. “What were you asking Beth for, Judy?” 

The fair-haired little girl blinked up at him a few times before the question clicked in her mind and she excitedly babbled, “I go home with you an’ Bethy, Da-wul? I wanna sweep- sweepover! Pwease pwease pwease??”

He supposed they had Carl to blame for this. Granted Carl had been sleeping over his friends house for awhile now, it was just that Judith had finally figured out what a sleepover _meant,_

and ever since then she’d been begging to sleepover Daryl and Beth’s. To the little girl, hearing that a sleepover meant spending the night at your best friend’s home had put one thing quite firmly in her mind.

The fact that the toddler considered him (and Beth) her ‘best fwiends” was pretty damn cute, of course, even if it baffled him sometimes. But they’d grown close in the time he’d lived with the Grimes family, and he knew Judy missed him being there in the mornings, playing with her or helping her go to bed at night. That, combined with her visit a couple weeks ago to see their apartment _and_ their new kitten meant that Judith just would not give up on the idea of a ‘sweepover’. She’d been asking every day for almost a week and a half now… and finally, they could give her an answer she’d like.

With a little grin, he asked innocently, “You mean your Mama didn’t tell you, Sugar?”

As Judith blinked in complete confusion, Beth leaned her cheek against Daryl’s arm and gave the girl a smile as she added, “You’re spending the night with me and Daryl, sweet pea.” 

“A… A sweepover?” 

“Uh huh.”

“Judy have sweepover?” Her eyes got bigger and bigger with excitement as she practically vibrated in Daryl’s arms. “With Bethy? And Da-wul? And Scwap?!?” 

“That’s right, Sugar,” Daryl adjusted his grip on her as the girl squealed in delight and clapped her hands together. “I guess that’s a definite yes from the little a-… butt kicker.” He chuckled down at Beth and leaned in to kiss her forehead; only the squirming toddler in his arms stopping him from giving her a much deeper kiss. 

“I’ll get her coat and then we can get going. Come on, sweet pea, let’s get your things and then we can take a ride in Daryl’s truck, yeah?” 

His grin only widened as he set Judith down and watched her run off, chubby legs churning as she shouted, “Twuck twuck twuck!” 

* * *

Having Judith over to spend the night was far from a last minute decision. They’d been planning it for several days, ever since Judy had refused to stop asking whenever she saw them and, according to Rick and Lori, when she was at home too.

Lori and Rick had packed up all the things she might need, including her little travel cot bed, her potty, her favorite blanket, and several toys. With Carl spending the night at his friend Luke’s, Daryl had a feeling the Grimes would be enjoying a night to themselves.

He and Beth on the other hand, got to experience the joys of an almost-3-year-old in their very small apartment. Granted when it came to toddlers, Judy was about as sweet as could be. Daryl as pretty sure she didn’t even know the meaning of the word ‘terrible twos’. She was entranced by their apartment, running around with Beth right behind her to explore every inch of the place. Her babbling voice and Beth’s sweet softer one echoed around Daryl as he put together Judith’s little travel cot and got her potty set up in their small bathroom.

The moment his hands were free, though, Judy had claimed them. With her little fingers curled around his hand (or rather, his thumb and one other finger), she tugged him around his own apartment to give him her own version of a tour. While Beth giggled and videotaped on her phone from behind,  laughing at the way he crouched his tall frame over to allow the little girl to keep a hold of his hand, Judith showed him in the plants in the window (“Bethy plants not like pulling!”), the collection of DVDs beneath their TV (“Pwincess Elsa!!”) and of course the cardboard box beside their bed that was still Scrap’s bed until he was big enough to wander around at night (“Scwap sleep in _box_!”) 

Judy adored Beth, that much was obvious. Even as Beth tried to make them dinner the toddler was clinging to her legs and begging to be picked up, letting Beth prop her on her hip as she moved through the small kitchen. It made sense to Daryl that Judith (or anyone really) would love Beth. She was sweet and kind and funny, and she always listened, no matter what. So he got it. 

What baffled him was that Judy seemed just as attached to _him_. 

Her enthusiasm for him hadn’t faded even in the months since he’d moved into this apartment with Beth. She clung just as tightly to his hand or his legs, cried out his name in excitement whenever she learned or saw something new, and played with his hair when Beth stood beside him and held her close enough to reach. At dinner Judy insisted on climbing into his lap, wanting ‘Da-wul’ to hold her while Beth helped her eat. Of course he obliged, wrapping one arm around her to hold her in his lap, because she was prone to bouncing and squirming even when she was focused on eating. He almost felt guilty, but when he shrugged apologetically at Beth, who had been planning on holding the little girl herself, she just grinned.

“You think I mind? Hey I get it.” She nudged Judy’s bowl closer and smiled as the little girl focused on dipping her spoon into the bright blue bowl of macaroni and cheese. Glancing up at him, her smile turned to a little smirk as she added just for him, “I mean, I’d want to sit in your lap, too…” 

He was pretty sure Judy didn’t notice a few minutes later when Beth got up to get her some juice, and Daryl took advantage to grab her ass, coaxing a squeal and a laugh from his girl as she darted away and to the fridge. 

Having the little girl there was an adjustment to their routine, but neither of them minded. They took turns with her, Beth playing with her on the floor until Daryl washed the dishes and joined them. Playtime turned to winding down time when Beth changed her into her jammies and handed her off to Daryl, who brought her to the couch to watch a movie on their small television. He had Beth tucked up against his side and Judy sitting in his lap, and the Disney movie they watched, usually accompanied by Beth’s playful singing, was now also narrated by Judith’s excited babbling. By the time the little girl began to yawn and signal that she was tired, both their phones were filled with videos; Beth playing with Judy, Judy playing with Daryl, Judy laying on her back giggling while Scrap climbed all over her and mewled. 

His favorite would turn out to be the picture Beth took of him laying on the couch with Judith curled against his chest clutching her blanket close in one hand, the thumb of her other between her lips as Daryl gently kept her close with a hand against her back. He almost would have been content to just lay there with her, especially with Beth right beside him. But eventually she turned off the TV and he stood up slowly, carefully carrying the little girl into their small bedroom where her cot had been placed at the foot of the bed. 

She had her own room at home but Lori had suggested her sleeping in their room, guessing she might be afraid sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. Sure enough though she was fine at first when they carefully lay her sleeping form on her cot and covered her with her blanket, a few hours later the darkness of their room was pierced by her fussing, unsure cries.

“Sugar?” Daryl groaned just faintly as he pushed down the covers and sat up in bed. Their normally dark room was lit by Judith’s moon-shaped nightlight, and when he sat up he could see her at the foot of the bed, sitting up and whimpering. 

Beside him Beth sat up halfway as well, her sleepy voice warm and reassuring. “What’s wrong, sweet pea?” 

When all she did was continue to whimper and look around her wide-eyed, clearly confused and upset by the change in her usual surroundings, it only took one glance at Beth and a nod in return before he was up and on his feet, moving round the bed to scoop her into his arms. And just like that Judy ended up curled between them on the bed, her little body snug in the space left between there. She faced Daryl, her fingers curled lightly in the shirt he wore, her back against Beth’s chest and Beth’s hand stroking lightly up and down her arm as she drifted back to sleep slowly but surely.

In the dimly lit darkness his eyes met Beth’s over the toddler between them, and he found the smile on his lips matched by her own. 

“You’re good with her,” Beth whispered, reaching up briefly to run her fingers through his hair before she settled her hand back down on Judy’s arm, gently rubbing up and down as the last of Judy’s whimpers settled. 

“She’s a good kid,” he murmured back. As his eyes held hers, he found himself admitting, “Y’know… I never much wanted kids, before.”

“No?”

“Nah. But…” Daryl’s hand stretched over Judith between them, so he could run his fingers down Beth’s arm lightly and lovingly. “I reckon maybe it wouldn’t be so bad… someday.” 

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t really need to. Her smile said it all, lingering on her lips even as she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

Yeah. Maybe it really wouldn’t be so bad. Someday, of course.  



	17. Thunderstorm Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When their plans get cancelled because of a series of thunderstorms, Beth and Daryl settle in for a quiet night in their tiny apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original Prompt** : From my good friend [Abelina](archiveofourown.org/users/abelina/works), who requested “plans with friends that got cancelled because of a thunder storm”.

When the series of slow moving, powerful thunderstorms came rolling through, bringing with them sporadic hail, intensely loud cracks of thunder, and buffeting winds more than capable of knocking down power lines, they knew there was no way they were leaving their apartment. Despite her faint smile when she glanced over at the window, Beth had the grace to at least _sound_ disappointed as she called her sister and cancelled their plans for the night.

It wasn’t that she and Daryl hadn’t wanted to have dinner with Maggie and her boyfriend Glenn. Beth loved her sister and always had, in spite of Maggie’s tendency to vacillate between overly-protective-older-sister and selfishly-self-focused-brat, and they both loved Glenn, who was funny and kind-hearted, providing just the balance for her sister’s somewhat sharp edges. They happily spent time with them at least once a month, often more if everyone’s schedules could accommodate it, and generally enjoyed it.

Yet still, when she hung up the cell phone after cancelling on her sister, there was still a smile on her lips, and it was mirrored by a hint of one tugging at the corners of Daryl’s own. His of course only widened when he caught sight of hers, and the little chuckle that rumbled through his chest had her shooting him a look as she asked, “What?” 

“Nothin’,” he replied with a smirk as he came up behind her where she stood in their small living room. As his arms twined around her slender waist, he leaned in to rest his cheek against her temple and went on in his usual gruff voice, “Just reckon Maggie wouldn’t be so acceptin’ of our excuse if she could see th’ smile on your face right now.” 

“Hey, it wasn’t like I was lying!” Leaning back in his arms, her back fitted perfectly against his broad chest, she turned her head to nod towards the window by the table, with the shelf of plants built up at the base of it. Through the rain-coated glass, dark clouds filled the sky in their view of the city beyond, lighting flashing in the distance as the next in the line of thunderstorms made its way closer. 

“Yeah, but y’ managed to sound so disappointed when y’ told her, and here y’ are, smilin’ fit to burst…” His voice was rough with barely contained amusement, and Beth found herself smiling as she felt the scruff of his beard brushing against the curve of her neck. 

“Well… I am, but... I’m also not at the same time.” She didn’t explain, but his hum of agreement and the gentle tightening of his arms around her waist made her inclined to think she didn’t need to. Daryl understood. He pretty much always did, when it came to her, especially because in a lot of things they were similarly inclined. For example there were times, especially after long and busy weeks, where the two of them liked to just curl up together at the end of the day and relax, passing the time by watching a movie, or reading a book, or even just talking. 

Tonight was one of those nights, and though they had been willing to forgo it for familial obligations, both of them seemed visibly relieved that the line of summer storms had provided exactly the excuse they’d needed. Not only an excuse really, but a perfect atmosphere, too. Unlike some people who were apathetic towards storms at best and terrified of them at worst, Beth and Daryl both seemed to enjoy a good thunderstorm.

For Beth, they reminded her of nights spent in the farmhouse, curled in the window of her childhood bedroom, reading a book in between peering out the wavering glass to the fields beyond, where the roiling stormclouds held court in the sky, creating gorgeous art in their flares of jagged lightning, and making her shiver at the power in their cracks of thunder.

For Daryl the memories were of a tiny trailer vibrating beneath the storm above, a flimsy shelter that made the whole thing seem even more thrilling, made riding it out as a young child seem like a dangerous adventure. When he was older that adventure had come in bike rides right through the middle of the storm, the rumble of his bike beneath his thighs competing with the thunder above for which could vibrate through him with the most intensity. 

Now they made new memories when it stormed. Together they’d curl up on the couch by the window, watching the flashes of lightning and the way the rain ran in rivulets down the window glass. Without power, they made due with the lights of the candles like the ones Beth had lit tonight. They dotted the kitchen and the living room both, lending their flickering warmth to the small space in a way Beth thought was rather nice and romantic. With the atmosphere set, they’d maybe cuddle up with a warm blanket, and spend time with just the two of them...

Suddenly, a crack of thunder rumbled so loud overheard that the walls shook a bit, and in the wake of its passing, a tiny black shape went bolting across the floor in front of their feet, causing Beth to instantly amend her previous thought. They’d spend time with just the two of them, _and Scrap_. Poor little Scrap, who absolutely hated thunderstorms, and was currently showing it by huddling underneath the lowest shelf of his cat tower.

Daryl had built the large structure by hand, determined that he could make something that was a better fit for their tiny apartment (tall, rather than wide) and far less costly. Grumbling but intent on making something ‘good enough for our Scrap’ (as he’d said to Beth) Daryl had even gone off to the pet store, studying what the best of the models had so that he could make something just as good, or better. The result was a tall, narrow tower that fit perfect beside their couch in front of the window, with three flat, fabric-covered platforms, polls covered in neatly wrapped twine for climbing (especially since Scrap was still too small to jump), a scratch post, a little closed level with a single hole that the kitten could climb into, and numerous jingly, feathery toys.

Normally the tiny black kitten could be found climbing all over it, dragging himself up the twine-wrapped columns by his claws, batting at the toy Daryl had attached on a spring to one level, or laying in a circle of dark fur at the top to sleep. But now he was huddled under the shelf, his eyes big and dark and his little body quivering. Beth instantly broke away from Daryl with a coo of, “Awww, little baby! We didn’t forget about you, poor thing. I know you hate the thunder. C’mere, Scrap…” 

There were two places Scrap liked to be when a thunderstorm hit. The first was wedged at the bottom of his tower, of course, where he could push his way back until his little rump hit the wall. But the second and far more preferred method, was with Beth or Daryl. Or more specifically, nestled inside one of their shirts. Which was exactly where Beth placed him now, coaxing him gently out and scooping him up, keeping him in the air only a moment before she pulled out the collar of her shirt and tucked the kitten inside.

As she cradled him against her chest with both hands holding him through the fabric, Beth turned to glance at Daryl, who was eyeing her with a knowing smirk. “What?”

“Pretty soon he’s gonna be too big for that,” was Daryl’s only remark as he moved towards the couch. “You might regret that when he’s a big cat tryin’ t’ burrow under your shirt…” 

Despite his mock scolding, Daryl sat down with firm intent, turning to press his back to the arm of the couch and spreading his legs a bit, just the right amount for Beth to sit between them and lean back against his solid frame. As her back settled against his chest, Daryl’s hands slipped casually around, one settling against her tummy and the other coming up to pet Scrap through Beth’s shirt. He was curled up tightly beneath it now, nestled against her chest, his trembling slowly easing as both his parents cuddled him in his safe place.

“I won’t regret it,” Beth said after a moment, smiling down at the tuft of fur visible through the opening of her shirt. “He’s my little nugget, I’ll never mind. Plus, Daddy says he’s probably not going to get too big, anyway. He’s our little Scrap! Our perfect little tiny apartment cat.”

“Mmm.” Daryl’s nose rested against the back of her neck, his hum stirring the little hairs there and making her shiver, even as he tilted his head to brush his lips over her skin and tease, “Plus, can’t help but reckon he’s got good taste. I mean, hidin’ under your shirt and all… I can see th’ appeal.”

“Daryl!” 

“What? I’m just sayin’, it ain’t the worst place to hide at all…” There was a hint of mischief in his tone, accented by the slide of his hand down over her stomach to slip under the hem of her shirt. Slowly but surely it brushed up, until she could feel the graze of his fingers against the underside of her breasts, covered by the thin cotton of her bra. 

“Hey there, Mr. Dixon.” Her voice was a bit lower and huskier, the attempt at scolding tinged with an amusement that gave away her playfulness as she went on, “That’s _Scrap’s_ hiding place…” 

“I ain’t gonna disrupt him,” Daryl murmured in response as the pads of his fingers gently but casually stroked the bottom curve of her breast. Against her back, she could feel his low voice rumbling through his chest as he went on, “Maybe my hand is afraid of thunder, too.” 

“Oh, well in _that_ case, I suppose I’ll just have to take care of your hand, too…” Her giggles mingled in the air with a crash of thunder, but as the rumbles subsided Beth just leaned back against him, perfectly content. How could she not be? With Daryl holding her from behind and touching her so playfully and casually, Scrap cuddled up close, and their little apartment lit by the flicker of candlelight, as the pitter-patter of raindrops on the window filled the air… it was a perfect, quiet night. She might have had the grace to sound disappointed on the phone with Maggie, but the truth was that right now, there was nowhere else Beth would rather be. 

(Except maybe, in time, the bedroom; especially if Daryl’s hands continued to seek out solace from under her shirt. But for now at least, she was perfectly content right where she was, curled up on the couch with her two favorites guys.)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as of this update, we're all caught up with my posts on tumblr, so I can theoretically cross-post whenever I write something new. That is assuming I write something new, because my writer's block is absolutely crippling at the moment.


	18. Two Presents in One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth brings home Glenn's old Wii gaming system, and convinces Daryl to play a game with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't based on a prompt, actually, it just came to me this evening and I wrote it out in one go, which is rare and exciting for me these days. Enjoy!

The first thing out of Beth’s lips as she came through their apartment door with a jingle of keys and a rustle of paper was a bright and excited exclamation of, “Glenn gave us his old Wii system!”

The second thing she said, issued before he could speak up in reply, and punctuated by a knowing look in his direction was, “And before you ask, it _is_ going to cost me.” With a dramatic sigh, Beth nudged the door shut with her hip, lifting her free hand to lock the door as the other curled around the handles of a large paper bag she must have brought with her from her sister’s place on her visit today.

As she hooked her keys on the little shelf Daryl had made and hung by the door, Beth glanced over her shoulder at him and explained, “I have to teach Glenn to _cook_. Apparently he’s starting to worry all the eating out they do isn’t good for them, and Maggie can’t cook for beans-- she burns everything, always has. Mama used to unhook the smoke detector every time Maggie would ask for lessons, because the beeping drove the dog up a wall. So anyway, Glenn wants to learn, and I’m going to teach him! Which should be a nice mix of fun and torture... thus, the bribe.” 

Though she grinned as she jiggled the bag at him, Daryl knew what she was really saying. He knew that Glenn had offered her the game system for free but Beth, knowing how Daryl could get about anything that had even a whiff of charity, had suggested some sort of trade or barter instead. She’d anticipated his reaction, and come up with a way to ease it, and understanding that didn’t make him mad at her at all. In fact, as he sat there on their small couch with Scrap purring in his lap and peered up at her through his long fringe of hair, all Daryl felt was the same warmth and love that always seemed to well up in his chest when she did something like this-- hell, when she was just near him at all. 

He felt a hint of guilt still, at accepting something for ‘free’, but he couldn’t say no to her when she was making him feel like that. Didn’t want to, really. Even if he had, she was already kneeling on the floor pulling out the system, and as the empty paper bag toppled over, Scrap was bounding out of his lap and running across the floor towards it on his oversized kitten paws. As the little scrap of black fur vanished into the back with a mewl and a rustle of paper, Beth looked up at him with a grin and giggled, “Two presents in one!” 

Two presents in one, and two sweet happy faces he didn’t have it in him to say no to even if he’d wanted to. 

So in the end he was right there on the floor with her, helping to unravel the cords and figuring out how to plug them into their TV, which thankfully was new(ish) enough that they _could_ hook the system up at all. 

“Let’s play something!” Beth exclaimed twenty minutes later as they stood successfully in front of the television, the faint sound of the Wii music accented by the continued rustling of paper as Scrap played in his new bag fort. (As far as Daryl could tell, this involved running around in circles inside the bag, and occasionally poking his tail out before darting it back inside.) “Hmmm… we don’t have a lot of room though… I dunno if we can play bowling. What do you think?” 

She lifted the controller that was looped around her hand, backing up and mimicking the rolling of a bowling ball. He was amused enough to crack a smirk; it wasn’t what he’d expected. When he thought of video games, he pictured people sitting on the edges of couches, clutching controllers in their hands. Like that one time he and Merle had stayed with a dude who had an old playstation, and would spend hours and hours sitting on the sagging couch in his musty living room, cracking beer after beer and playing racing games on controllers so grimy the buttons didn’t work half the damn time.

But this was nothing like that, and not just because the whole room smelled, as always, like sunshine, growing plants, and a hint of Beth’s shampoo. It was also a brighter, if smaller space without a hint of dust or must; but the biggest difference was Beth, standing there in front of him with a happy smile on her lips as she rocked forward onto her toes and back again to her heels. She was so damn happy, she brightened up the room all on her own, no sun or lamps needed. Her gaze lingered for a moment and then she glanced at the menu on the screen and her eyes lit up, “Oh! Daryl there’s Wii Archery!”

Despite how unsure he was about playing with this system at all-- he was sure he’d make a fool of himself, though of course he was willing to do that a hundred times over for Beth-- Daryl couldn’t help but feel his interest rise at her words. He turned to study first the screen, and then her. “They got an archery game? How’s that even work?”

“I’ll show you!”

It only took a minute or so to get it going and then he was watching as she held the Wii remote in one hand and the other thing-- the thing she called a ‘nunchuk’ in the other, squeezing it and drawing it back. “See? You hold this up like it’s the grip of the bow, and then draw the nunchuk back like it’s the arrow and the bowstring, and then when you have it lined up…. you release!”

His gaze lifted just in time to see the electronic arrow fly on the screen and whizz right past the target she’d been aiming for. “Except I’m _horrible_ at this,” Beth exhaled with a sigh and a groan. “I always have been, even when I used to play it with Glenn and Mags.” With a hint of a pout, she added, “I thought I might be better because you’ve been teaching me your crossbow, but I guess it’s not the same…”

Lured by instinct (though the little pout of her full lower lip was also pretty tempting) Daryl stepped up behind her. “Here,” he murmured, coming up behind her until one hand smoothed casually across her waist. “Think the problem is you’re movin’ your hand when y’ release an’ it’s sending it wide.” 

Sure, he’d never played this game before, but he’d been hunting since he could walk, practically, and he knew the basics better than he knew himself, it sometimes seemed. He’d seen the way her hand had jerked when she released, and it wasn’t hard to visualize what would have happened if she’d been holding a real bow instead. The basic principle was the same, wasn’t it?

Daryl’s left hand stayed on her waist, but his right hand came up as she drew back the nunchuk again towards her ear. “There y’ go, nice an’ slow and get the aim right. But remember what I taught you to do, out when we were practicin’?” This close, his nose was filled with the scent of her, practically enough to make his head spin if he hadn’t been so focused on helping her. He could tell, though, that the sensation of his lips murmuring so close to her ear was affecting her too. Daryl had long since learned how sensitive Beth’s ears could be, just as he’d learned to read the shifting in her body, and the way she tensed and shifted when he was distracting her. “What are you supposed t’ do before you release th’ bolt?”

“I…” She paused, drawing in a deep breath that hitched faintly before she released it. “I breathe in, and fire on the exhale, in between heartbeats. 

“Right. Just like that.” The hand that had rested on her hip brushed around to the flat of her belly and then up, skating over the fabric of her shirt until it came to rest just over her heart. As his lips lingered by her ear, he tapped out the rhythm of her heart against her chest: _Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap._ “Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out and…

_Tap tap_ , and then with his fingers curled around her wrist to hold it steady, Beth released the button and let her ‘arrow’ fly, right into the center of the game target.

“I did it!” As the game erupted in celebratory music, she spun around with a whirl, and before he could even grin at her, Beth’s arms were around his shoulders and her lips were on his. When she was doing that, frankly it just seemed instinctive to wrap his arms around her waist and lift her up into his arms.

Everything after that was a bit of a blur, as it always was when she was in his arms. He was at least aware that at some point, they ended up on the floor, both of them shifting together in the tiny amount of free space in their living room. It was all tangled limbs and roaming hands and laughter mixed with kisses, until finally he rolled over so that she was beneath him and he was free to kiss her breathless. 

He was aware, as well, that Scrap wasn’t very pleased by their antics, judging by the way the kitten mewed in protest when Beth very nearly rolled over onto his bag. The unexpected rustling of his bag fort sent him running, leaping out of the paper bag in a blur of black fur and jumping up onto the arm of the couch, where he attempted to clean himself as if that had been his plan all along.

And Daryl also knew, as Beth stretched out beneath him with her cheeks flushed and giggles spilling from her lips, that maybe accepting the game system from Glenn (and Maggie) wasn’t such a hardship after all. 

After all, _he_ didn’t have to teach Glenn to cook. He just had to play games with Beth Greene, and let her kiss him breathless every time she proved herself just as skilled at video games as she seemed to be at everything else.

Yeah, that was definitely not a hardship at all.


	19. Daryl's Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Daryl is sick, Beth muses on all the sides of him that people never seem to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Original Prompt:** [Maebe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Maebe/pseuds/Maebe) asked if I could "write Daryl with a cold" in tiny apartment verse. I did, but it turned into something a lot more emotional than I expected! The tone is a bit deeper than the last one, more deep and emotional than just the usual tiny apartment fluff, though it's a bit fluffy, too. I think it's a complement towards [Secretly Sweet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3713698/chapters/8927878), the chapter of this ficlet series where Beth is the one who gets sick.

There was a certain image that Daryl had always projected to the outside world; perhaps it was intentional, or perhaps some people just saw what they wanted to see. Whatever the reason for the perceptions people had about him, they existed. Those being polite might call him the strong, silent type. Those who didn’t care so much about being nice might call him taciturn, grumpy, grouchy, rough, or a number of other things.

It was true that in some ways he could be all those things, but he was so much more to those who knew him. Especially to Beth, who had seen so many other sides of him that few people had taken the time to get even a glimpse of. There was the good, sweet side of him, of course. He was, after all, the man who built her shelves at just the right width for their narrow window so she could have an indoor garden, the man who took care of her when she was sick, the man who made her a sandwich with his own hands, packed it in a paper bag, and brought it to her at work when she forgot to bring lunch, and the man who she could sometimes catch curled on the couch with their tiny black kitten curled under his chin, both of them fast asleep. 

There was a sweetness in him, a goodness that radiated outwards, like fingers of sunlight shining through the chinks of a shuttered window. But there was more than just sunshine and sweetness glimpsed through those cracks. There were shadows, too. There was darkness. In the darkness of their bedroom at night, sated from their lovemaking or just tired from a long day, he would sometimes roll onto his side with his back facing her, and as her fingers traced lovingly and gently over the scars that permanently marred his broad back, he would talk to her about her past. She was never sure if her touch coaxed it out of him, or if it soothed him while he spoke, she just knew he needed her not to stop just as much as some part of him needed to get those words out.

On those nights his voice was lower and rougher. He would whisper, or murmur, but he would never get any louder; as if he thought that by speaking too loudly into the darkness, the shadows would turn into the very demons from his past that he had dared put words to. Those nights, he seemed older somehow. Skittish and wary and feral. Those nights, when she held him and comforted him as he trembled faintly in her arms, she felt the weight of everything he had gone through and how it had made him the man he was today. The man she loved.

She couldn’t help but wonder, though, about the boy he’d once been. He _had_ been a boy, though his childhood had been nothing like hers. He didn’t have a single picture, let alone walls of framed photos and several neatly kept albums, and all the stories he told of his childhood tended to have some dark aspect to them. Even the happier ones about his mother, before she’d passed away, were tinged in melancholy and seemed almost sour, as if the overwhelming scent of the liquor his mother had loved so much clung even to the memory of her. 

Beth wondered sometimes, not just about the boy he’d once been, but the boy he _could_ have been. There were so many moments with her when he was happy and laughing and smiling in a way that people who only barely knew him might have been surprised by. But he was a _man_ then. His happiness came, in part, from the man he already was, enjoying a life he never thought he’d have. He was never child-like in those moments, he never really gave her a glimpse of what he might have been like as a child.

Except when he was sick. 

Those moments were rare, as it was. Despite the fact that he smoked (less than he had when they’d first met, granted, but still on occasion), Daryl was a pretty healthy man. Beth put it down to a strong immune system, staying in good shape, and a relatively germ-free workplace. Unfortunately, Beth couldn’t say the same about her own workplace. Being around kids meant being around germs more than anyone would have liked, probably. And unfortunately it seemed that whenever Beth got sick, Daryl tended to follow suit at _least_ half the time.

(Of course that didn’t surprise her, considering how lovingly he took care of her, and how he never gave up on holding her and kissing even when she was coughing all over.) 

When Daryl was sick, he got quieter, but it was in a different way. A _needy_ way. He’d lay there in bed looking up at her, and his blue eyes would actually be plaintive in a way she almost never saw, and the urge to take care of him was impossible to resist. 

So she did. She sat by him just as he always did her, and the wonder in his eyes at every little thing she did always made her heart ache. He seemed amazed every time she checked his temperature with the back of her hand, or made him chicken soup and sat there to help him drink it, or fluffed his pillows and changed the blankets. Her gentle touch was like magic to him; a magic he’d never felt before and could not learn to expect. And if those things amazed him, he practically lit up despite his illness when she took things even further. Like the time she wheeled in the small TV from the living room, wedging it carefully through the narrow bedroom door and fitting it in the small space at the foot of their small bed, so they could curl up together (him beneath the covers, and her lying on top of them beside him) and watch a movie. 

That time, he was sick with the flu; not anything overly worrying, but the most sick she’d ever seen him. Sick enough that she’d sung him to sleep with the same soft lullabies her Mama had sung to her as a child, when she’d been sick. She held him close, stroking her fingers through his sweat-damp hair and crooning breathy lullabies to him until he fell asleep in her arms.

He was flushed with fever, but she had never seen him look more peaceful than he did in that moment, asleep and curled against her. Not just peaceful… _innocent_. 

And when she pressed a kiss to his forehead, she felt for a moment like she wasn’t just kissing Daryl; the man she loved and adored, the man she shared this little creaky bed and this tiny apartment with. She was kissing the innocent little boy still hidden away somewhere deep down inside of him. The boy who’d never had someone to take care of him, never had anyone to make him soup and check his temperature with the back of a hand, and sing him lullabies until he fell asleep, and hold him just to make sure he got the rest he needed. 

Other people might see a taciturn, silent, grouch of a man, but she saw everything that lay beneath it. She saw the light glinting between the cracks, and the shadows that occasionally stretched heavy fingers over that happy glint. And she loved every single bit of him, every single part of who he was, and who he might have been; the little neglected boy and the strong, damaged, but wonderfully sweet man.

She loved him like he’d never been loved before, but like he’d always deserved to be. 

And she would always take care of him, just as he took care of her.


	20. A Fluffy Wake-up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of being awoken by cuddles or kisses, Beth is woken this morning by a grunt from Daryl beside her... and a very amusing sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not a 'prompt' for this, so much as "I was talking to [Abelina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/abelina/works) about something, and suddenly I got around to joking about a certain silly way Beth might wake up, and Abby said 'doooo itttt', so here it is!" Also there's a special header for this one, JUST BECAUSE, I mean I had to really. This is a short but sweet one.

On any given day, there were a number of ways Beth might be woken up in the morning. Sometimes it was just by the warmth of the sun coming through their bedroom window and warming up the tiny space. Other times, it was by the gentle brush of Daryl’s hand over the flat of her belly or perhaps her back, if she was curled up close facing him with her thigh wedged between his.

Every once in awhile he would wake her with kisses across her forehead and cheeks, until she hummed softly and tilted her head up to kiss his lips, and each time he woke her, Beth’s eyes would flutter open just a little bit. Just enough to see the look he had on his face, that glimpse of soft awe, as if after all this time he was still amazed to be waking up beside her. 

However it happened, usually Daryl woke up first; they didn’t need alarm clocks when his internal sense of time was as keen as it was. True to form, he was the first one to wake up this morning. But rather than feeling the shifting of the bed beneath her, or the brush of his hand over her hip or side or back, or the warmth of his lips on her skin, what stirred Beth instead was a confused sound from beside her, followed by a low grunt. 

Beth’s eyes fluttered open slowly at the sound and she turned slightly, tilting her head as her blurry vision focused on Daryl to see what it was that was bothering him. She was half asleep and still a bit out of it, humming sleepily as she turned to look him over… but when her eyes finally cleared, it was all she could do to hold back the giggles that threatened to bubble free. 

It seemed that Scrap had decided to give Daryl his wakeup call today… but instead of doing so by climbing up his chest or mewling into one of their ears or walking over their heads (as he’d done many times before), the little black fluff of a kitten had curled up right on top of Daryl’s face… and gone happily to sleep himself. All she could see was the edges of Daryl’s long hair and a glimpse of the line of his jaw; everything else was covered by the black fluff that was Scrap, pulled into a little perfect circle with his paws tucked under his tiny face and his eyes shut.

“Oh my gosh…” Beth pressed her hand over her mouth, a few giggles slipping free as Daryl gave another grunt beside her. His jaw worked tensely as Beth managed to get out, “How is that even comfortable?”

“It’s _not_ ,” Daryl grunted, although his low response was muffled against Scrap’s fur and sounded for like ‘snot’. “Damn it, now I’ve got fur on my- blech!- on my tongue.” 

“Well I meant how is it comfortable for _him_ , but-” Her shoulders shook with her attempt to repress her laughter, but the sight of Scrap remaining happily asleep even as Daryl talked and shifted slightly beneath him, was too much to bear. She burst out laughing, rolling onto her belly and pressing her face into her pillow to muffle it.

Despite the pillow she was pressing her face half-into, Beth’s laughter filled the small, sun-warmed room. Grumpy though he was, even Daryl gave a little rumble of amusement beside her; his chest rising and falling with his chuckle, though still Scrap didn’t stir, which only sent Beth into another round of laughter. She only stopped giggling when Daryl reached out, hand fumbling across the bed until he found her butt and gave it a playful little tap, catching her attention as he grunted, “Hah hah, very funny...” 

“Well,” Beth murmured in a breathy voice as she rolled onto her side again, propping her head on one hand as she looked over at him… or what she could see of him beneath Scrap. Still faintly chuckling in between words, she asked, “Why don’t you just pick him up?”

There was a moment of silence, and then his answer came hesitantly and quietly, “He’s just so snug and happy and I’d feel bad movin’ him…” 

“Awww, _Daryl_! You big softie…” She teased him, but the truth was it made her heart swell with love for him; the sort of sensation that usually made her want to cover him in kisses. Given that the part of him she currently wanted to kiss was covered by their little fur ball, though, it seemed Beth would have to take action. 

“Alright, sugar… I’m sorry to have to move you, but you’re in the way of my morning kisses and I’m starting to get jealous!” Gently she curled her fingers under the sleeping kitten, lifting him up and shifting him against her warm chest. To her amusement Scrap barely stirred, just long enough to give a faint, sleepy ‘mew’ before she tucked him into her tank top (one of his favorite spots) where he curled right against her chest and fell promptly back to sleep, cradled by her hand.

As Daryl brushed a few stray black hairs from his face, he looked down at Beth and the tuft of dark fur revealed by the scoop neck of her tank top and then, with a flash of a smirk, he teased, “See, now I’m just jealous.”

And with a laugh Beth just reached for him with her free hand, curling her fingers into his shirt and tugging him towards her. “C’mere, mister. I missed out on my morning kisses and now you owe me…”

Because no matter how she woke up, whether it was by Daryl himself or the warmth of the sun or the mewling of Scrap, Beth always liked to start her day with a few kisses from Daryl… and she had to admit, adding a purring kitten to the mix definitely didn’t hurt.


	21. Bower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day of work, Beth breaks down, and Daryl knows just what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the idea for this at work when I was feeling especially emotional. I didn't think I was going to actually manage to write it because I've been so rubbish at that lately but then, um... I did somehow? And this happened! So here it is, lol. (Also it's in third person present and I think most of these ficlets tend to be in third person past tense but idk, it happened and it felt right so yep.)

Exhaustion permeates Beth’s every move. She climbs the building stairs one at a time, taking each one as if it’s a mountain instead of a tiny little step. She fumbles for her keys, the practiced routine of it failing in the face of her very long, tiring day. Even her attempts to get the key into the slot in the door handle feel like an ordeal. No, it’s like the lock is fighting her for some reason, and after a day of everything feeling exactly like that, the door’s lack of cooperation feels like an _attack_.

Eventually though, the apartment door opens with it’s usual faint, low creak. Beth turns, shuts the door, and settles her keys on their hook beside it… and when her head lifts to look around her, instead she promptly bursts into tears. She doesn’t even fully understand where it comes from, or how it happens. It bubbles up from within her, catching her completely off guard, and she’s just standing there right in front of their door; shoulders hunched and shaking, body tense, and tears spilling down her cheeks. 

And there Daryl is, right there behind her, without saying a word. There is his firm, careful tread, and then his arms are wrapping around her from behind. She feels the slide of his arms around her waist and the press of his chest against her back, and the deep exhale she gives at his embrace shudders through her whole body. She feels safe, she feels held and comforted, and somehow that only makes something unknot even further within her and the tears spill even more quickly down her cheeks. 

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t question, doesn’t ask her what’s wrong. Even if he had, Beth isn’t sure if she can answer. How can she explain that she doesn’t even _know_ what’s wrong? How can she tell him that it’s not one thing in particular but _everything_ about this _whole day_ ; from the restless sleep to the early morning, to a horrible day at work where half her coworkers were out and the kids were all fussy and screaming and causing trouble, and the car almost didn’t start and the traffic was a mess and how lord, just everything seemed to be working against her until she got home and felt, suddenly, like all she could do was just break down and cry? 

But it doesn’t matter, because Daryl doesn’t ask. All he does is _hold her_ and somehow it is everything she could possibly have needed. It’s just his warmth and his nearness and the safety of his embrace and the familiar scent of him all around her. It’s his strong arms and his sturdy body anchoring her; steady as the trunk of a tree, it’s branches wrapped around her to form a bower and shield her from everything that has been weighing down on her all day.

She shivers in his arms, giving little whimpering cries until she feels his lips press softly to the back of her neck. His lips press warmth into her skin, relaxing her muscles, practically drawing the slower, steadier breathes right into her lungs until the rise and fall of her chest begins to match his, where it presses to her back.

When she finally speaks, unsure if it’s minutes later, or somehow hours, her voice is hoarse and ragged and almost a whisper, and all she manages to get out is a plaintive few words. “I d-don’t even k-know… w-what’s wr-wrong…” 

And his arms just wrap a little tighter, as he pulls her back more firmly against him so the curve of her back fits right against her chest. His head tilt so his lips can find her ear, and he whispers, “I know, baby girl. Just one of those days, right? It’s okay. I know.”

He knows. He does. The relief of that understanding flood her body and she goes a bit limp, but even though she sinks a little in his arms he doesn’t flinch one bit. He just cradles her back against his chest and his strong arms keep her steady, anchoring her in the stormy rocking waves of her emotions, until finally the tears that had started to spill once more down her cheeks begin to slow again. 

Never once does he let her go. Never once does he ask any questions, let alone say any of the stupid, idiotic things that another man-- or heck, even one of her coworkers-- might have said if she’d cried in front of them. There’s not a single ‘what happened’, let alone an ‘ugh is it that time of the month?’ (though it’s not) or an ‘oh god are you pregnant or something’ (though she definitely isn’t). There’s only _I know_ echoing in the air between them, and _I’m here_ , implicit in his embrace and his warmth and his comforting presence. 

Somehow, eventually, she ends up turned around in his arms and lifted; one hand holding her back and the other arm slung beneath her rear as she wraps her legs around his waist and rests her head on his shoulder. He carries her as if she weighs nothing, continuing to embrace her through her faint little tired cries as he brings her easily into their tiny, snug bedroom and right into their bed. He doesn’t tuck her under the covers but climbs in right after her; not bothering to undress either of them, just slipping into bed and wrapping his arms right back around her again.

If his arms had felt like safe little bower before, then the bed is their grove, and the apartment their small little forest. The sort of place where everything is golden sunlight and warm breezes and nothing would ever dare try to harm he and she is safe, safe, safe. Curled up in their bed under the covers with his arms around her and her face buried in his chest and Scrap curled asleep in a ball of fluff up on the pillow by their heads, Beth feels _so_ safe; so content, so secure, so loved… so close to being _okay_ again.

So as she drifts asleep, exhausted from the long day and the outburst of emotions that had come spilling out of her, she knows that tomorrow will be better. Daryl will make sure of it.

(And even if it somehow isn’t, he’ll still be there for her. He’ll be there to hold her and guide her through it. Just like she would for him. No questions asked.)


End file.
